Ninety Two Nights
by iNyxxis
Summary: A shorter novella accompaniment to my story 'Catch My Fall', Spike and OC Jade travel across Eurasia. A very bare synopsis to not spoil anything, should read 'Catch My Fall' first so that things make sense.
1. Night One

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Buffy the Vampire slayer and Angel, the characters and universe is the property of Joss Whedon, and is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

 **AN:** This story takes place between the end of Chapter 56 of my story 'Catch My Fall' and eventually to be posted Chapter 57. I advise you read that story first, for the very first chapter of this is heavy, heavy **spoiler alerts** for what happened in my story. I am writing this piece for fun, it doesn't hold as much action as my story does, it is my first attempt at a more fluff piece, less action, more talking. The format of the chapters are a bit different than my normal ones, they are based on the day or the 'night' (since they're vampires), so some chapters might be very long, and some very short, depending on what occurred during the night. Thank you to my continued readers, and new ones, love your reviews, feedbacks and follows, and I hope you enjoy.

 **NIGHT ONE**

They were a few inches short of the balcony, whether by a mistake in her calculation for the leap, or the extra weight holding her down, so she snagged up her arm that balanced across Spike's back, grabbing one of the pillars that made up the balcony's railing. Spike felt himself tilt back, without his support, which he rectified by throwing his arm around her shoulders—wincing at the pain it caused his disturbed ribs, keeping himself up. He could feel the slight trembling in her arm as they dangled for only a second before she jutted her arm into a L-shape, bouncing them slightly down and then up as she gave them enough momentum to fly over the balcony's railing, landing securely, if not steadily, onto the stone platform. There were some murmurs of wonder from below them, echoing about in the cavern, but Jade paid no heed to them, releasing Spike so he could stand on his own. Yet, bloody hell, it was still one hell of a struggle, his sore body jarred and jostled by the not-so gentle transit. And they still had quite a bit of ground to cover, to get Jade away from temptation. But first things first.

"Bloody carry me like a damned young bride again and we'll have one hell of a spat," Spike complained, a bit of a blow to his ego from the way she had abseiled them up here. Sure, his wounds made options for holding him limited, but bloody hell, he didn't need the invalid treatment, had a bit more pride than that. Damn embarrassing, really. And maybe it was a bit of where he'd come from, all that time ago, when women were demure little things who wore gloves that never got stained and never had a hair out of place. Sure, he might not have missed _those_ bints, as William Pratt had never quite found one of them to take home, but that didn't mean he wanted the bloody role reversal. He was alright with carrying Jade like she was a prone thing, but the other was demoralizing. And he didn't give a damn if it was being old-fashioned or sexist, there were some things he had to draw a line at.

Jade had turned to glance back down at the cavern below, but stopped herself, in a half-turn cycle when she looked back to Spike. He expected a bit of a smile, maybe an embarrassed laugh or an apology—that was how Jade would answer, with apologetic laugh, turning a bit red on her cheeks, but this Jade merely nodded. Not even a verbal response to his banter, that half-dazed look still on her face, as if she was going through the motions without really feeling it. That bothered him a little, because he had gone through _that_ before, after Buffy's own little rising from the dead, and he did not want to deal with it again, and especially not with Jade. But then he supposed he should cut her a bit of slack, since she was still trying to draw her mind away from the blood-covered Slayers below them. She'd be a bit back to her old self when she had some food in her belly.

"Let's git a move on," He broke through after it was clear she wasn't going to answer him back. "Help a fellow out—but no more carrying, yeah?" She had taken a step, a quick one, and he had known already that he wasn't going to be able to keep up, not in this state. She glanced at him, seeming to look through him than at him, avoiding his gaze, but with a calculating measure, as if debating his wounds. She stepped up to him, and almost agonizingly slowly, she reached for him. Her slowness might have been her asking permission—which she didn't damn well need, because he had been the one to ask her for help, or more likely, it was because she didn't want to move too quickly and crush him with her strength. Or simply hurt him, when she had pained him on the statue, she had the face of a frightened lamb, as if hurting Spike was the worst thing that happened to her this day.

She took his unbroken arm and placed it once more on her shoulders. Slim as ever, he could still feel the strength rising from her sinewy muscles, though compared to most Slayers, she wasn't as muscular, just skinny. He wasn't overly surprised, since she didn't seem to actively slay in Haven, at least not before he had arrived and started buggering up things. And she had fought today as if she had never known holding back, though now she needed in in spades as she curled one arm around him. She did so awkwardly, since he tensed when her fingers brushed his chest, both from his broken ribs and her almost intimately tender touch. She had stopped immediately, without a word, and settled her hand lower, on his outer hip instead. His bruised and swollen knee was on the outside as well, and since it was at a lesser injury than his broken and healing leg, it would be his load-bearing one, though with each step they eased after that, Jade took most of his weight, so that he almost felt like he was skimming the floor rather than walking on it.

"Where to?" Her voice was hoarse, a near whisper as they headed back out the way they had come, through the dust-ridden and cobwebbed temple. It was obvious that the main tunnel in which they had brought the Slayers through had been that corridor they had seen in the cavern, which was good, because it meant that the Slayers had to leave the temple by a different route, one hopefully far away from Spike and Jade, because Jade needed all the distance they could get.

"That way," Spike nodded with his chin, seeing as the arm that wasn't wrapped around Jade's shoulder was his broken one, but she was close enough that she could easily observe his nod without even having to turn her head. And they were close. His hip brushed hers, or the expanse just above it, and though he was taller, he had crouched over to make it easier for her to hoist him up, so his head wasn't much higher than hers, not as much as if they were both standing straight up. He could see each line of her face in perfect detail, see the lack of color on her face, her blush that would have been prominent if she were still human. As it was, some color would come back once she got some blood into her system, but no tomato-inducing flushes that he had almost enjoyed bringing out. There was blood though, on her face, bruises that were healing, albeit slowly, since again, she needed to eat something. Her jaw seemed taut, as if she was gritting her teeth together, likely not from the exertion, but the temptation that still lingered behind them. Spike knew that if she dropped him and headed back into the temple, she could be back to the Slayers in short moments, devouring them not long after that, and she knew it too. As if thinking the same thought as him at the same time, she tightened her grip on his hip, as if holding tighter to what was keeping her anchored. So he didn't complain at the increased pressure, hell, whatever kept her distracted was bloody fine with him.

They sauntered off in the complete opposite direction of the jet, as Spike had wanted. The jet wasn't big enough to carry all the Slayers, hell, it had barely carried the misfit group and their weapons. But it'd take the most wounded and that'd leave most of the Slayers around to wait, for some witches to teleport them around or the jet to return. Which meant they needed to get away from here, for it'd take a while for all the Slayers to leave. They were in the middle of the sodding Romania, near the mainly unpopulated area surrounding Vidraru lake, or at least that was what Spike had discerned from his very fleeting and disinterested looks at the map. He hadn't really much cared where they had been going at the time, but how long it would take for them to get there, to get to Buffy. And now he was hightailing it away from her. But she didn't need help, not any more. She was rescued, sodding job done. She didn't like him sticking around too long, because then she was just thinking he was looking for some reward. Hell, she was mainly right. Tried to use it to get into her good books, but it never worked the way he wanted it to.

So now he wandered into the Romanian forest with a starved Slayer-Vampire at his side. It was a good distancing method. Couldn't claim that Spike was stalking her this time, no sir. But as it was, he had more things to think about than Buffy. Had to make sure they steered clear of little villages, towns, even cabins that might be populated. Best keep her away from human company in its entirety, til she was fed, and even then, little by little. Had to make sure she could control her urges, because anything sooner that would be irresponsibility and carelessness. And he did care. She had tried very hard already, and he could see as they got further away from the temple that she relaxed, only slightly, but enough. She no longer held herself rigid as a statue, and allowed herself to glance around a bit at the scenery around them. Which didn't bother Spike all that much. After all, he'd been in Romania before, although it had been over a hundred years ago—when Angelus turned into Angel and they'd fed on a tasty but vengeful Gypsy clan. Still, he'd seen enough forests over his bloody years to not give a damn about the trees any more. But she was looking. He wondered if she had even been out of the States before. He had never asked. Weren't so many trees in California, that was the truth.

They traveled for near an hour before he had them stop. There was enough distance, and Angel needed to catch up to them. Plus, it was time that Jade had something to eat. She was hungry enough. He directed her to lean him against one of the trees, which she did, easily and efficiently. She was still avoiding his gaze, he realised, that half-lidded gaze that didn't quite come anywhere near him. But that'd be settled with later. For now, they had a hunt to get underway. But she was still standing there, a bit uncertain. Guess she'd never done this before. Spike wasn't much of a teacher, but he didn't need to be. Hell, she was fast, and that was all she needed, and her senses were more than enough. But for a human, the prospect would be a bit alien, he supposed. "Take a breath," He instructed, seeing the answering confusion in her light blue eyes.

"But I don't—" Least she got the no-breathing part remembered, but there was more to it than that. He stifled his impatience, realising that this was probably not the best time to yell at her. Rising as a vampire could be disorienting, and he had no idea how it was with a soul, not having the demon lead the way.

"Yeah, you don't need it, but that's how you taste the air, innit?" He tried to sound gentle, but there was still a hint of irritability in his tone that she caught, dipping her head almost meekly in response. But she recovered quickly enough, closing her eyes and breathing in the scents. Her chest didn't rise, because the breath didn't go that far, just swirling around her olfactory receptors until she pushed the breath back out. "What do you smell?" Spike prompted, for she was still hesitating.

"Lots. Just… hard to separate." Jade said slowly, almost embarrassed. Well, she couldn't be expected to know all the animals apart by scent already, could she? Took a bit of time.

"Just go where the scents are bloody strongest and take your pick, you can decide when you get there." Spike supplied nonchalantly, although for a moment, he was concerned. If there were bloody hikers in these woods… but he could tell from his scenting that there weren't any animals close enough around them that Jade would be able to stay in his sight, and it wasn't like he could tag along, not if she wanted to catch something. Sure, leaving her to hunt by herself wasn't the smartest, but a fledgling vampire could probably manage it, so for her, it should be easy. "Go. Get somethin' to eat."

* * *

She didn't want to leave him there. Thinking of Spike as helpless wasn't normally something that came to mind, but he was bad off. She had barely been able to touch him without brushing something that gave him pain. But she had been touching him, holding him so close to her that she could _feel_ his body through their contact. Could feel the tension in his chest whenever it moved, the minute winces, the clumsy wobble of his wounded knee, the tender scraping of bones yet to set. His white hair was stiffer even more than normal, with blood dried in it. His face was mostly untouched, except for a few bruises. Mandy had expressed an desire to keep his face handsome, so she had avoided pounding on it like she had the rest of him. He was a vampire, he would live, but she didn't feel right just leaving him unprotected. She should be able to sense anything near them, but she felt an intense need to support him.

It was fortunate, that intensity. Thoughts of Spike had been all that had kept her from devolving into a mindless killing machine. She was so _hungry_. Like she had never had food. Her body, and the tiring exchange she had subjected it to, had drained all the blood, all the energy that Mandy had spared her. And she had been in a crowd of Slayers, with their enticing, available blood. God, she had wanted it so very badly. Still wanted it. Still thought of turning around and going back, although with each step away, her temptation became more manageable. Not enough, not nearly enough, but tolerable. That was all she could do, her very best to tolerate the pain, the desires. She felt like she had barely any control, like she was just holding on the edge of something else's momentum, just trying to hang on without the capability to steer. She hated this, not so the loss of discipline, but that if she wasn't monitored closely, controlling herself everything _single_ second, she'd snap out and make a mistake. She'd already hurt Spike when she had grabbed him, not realising the true amount of strength she had—and she _had_ been holding back.

And yet, she had pained him, and that had drove the point all the more home. If she could hurt Spike without meaning to, she was dangerous. A danger. She didn't have as much faith as Spike did that having a good meal would change that. After that, if it satiated her, her strength would still be massive, new to her and hard to control—even more then, since her hunger was making her weaker. She almost wanted it, then, to have a bit of a handicap, until she could learn to control it. But that meant going hungry, going without blood, and that was an even more dangerous predicament. If she let it go too far, she might not be able to stop the next time she ran into a human, particularly alone. So, she made the decision. She would hunt. To Spike, it was a no-brainer, but to her, she had to weigh it all. She wasn't good at it, just letting the damn scents into her head only confused her, their quantity and sporadic mixing. She wasn't used to all this sensory information, all she saw, and heard and felt and smelled. It was dark, yet she could still see pretty clearly, and knew instinctively that vamping would improve her eyesight even more. But she was still lacking basic knowledge, she didn't know the difference between the scent of an owl or a muskrat. She had a feeling she was about to learn.

So she tasted the air, and as Spike said, found the most concentrated area of scents. She glanced once back at him, who was staring at her impatiently. He didn't realise or didn't want to accept that she was worried for him, no doubt waiting for her to get a move on. So she nodded, and then she was off. She didn't quite have the blinding speed that Mandy did, at least not now while she was so hungry. The trees were mostly a blur. She thought of jumping from tree to tree, but the coniferous things looked like they'd be a bit too prickly for her to hold on too very well. The thought that it might not bother her as a vampire didn't occur to her. In her transit, she heard it then. The very small, light heartbeat, strumming quicker than a human's. It was small, a vole still plump near mid-autumn, and she wasn't going to turn her nose up at it just because it wasn't big enough. She halted and turned in a split-second. Its heart rate jumped only one, detecting her at the last second as she sped through the pines and foliage to snatch it from the ground. She held it in her hands, the small, furry thing, and she thought without meaning to, of her cats, and she might have put the poor vole back had she not accidentally snapped its spine as she caught it. She stared at it, then. Remorse. It was scarcely larger than a mouse, its beady eyes closed as it seemed to be curled up in her fingers. Barely even a mouthful, and she had killed it. What a waste. But she had killed it, and she wouldn't let it be for nothing, so hesitantly, almost repugnantly, she raised the tiny body to her lips.

Her face had shifted without her realising it, thick fangs coursing down. She had smelled the blood, warm and bubbling, beneath the coat of fur, and her demon was hungry. She sank her teeth in, sucking greedily. She'd never liked the taste of blood, that iron tang that made her hesitant to even suck the blood from her lip when it had cracked due to dryness, but now, her dislike of it had gone away, in fact, she quite enjoyed it, the husky, pine scent, traces of grasses, but she had eaten it quickly, the consuming taste of it, and it was gone far too quickly, and it had barely curbed her hunger. She looked at the shrivelled form her in her hand, and she buried it in the dirt, under some roots. She wouldn't go for an animal that small again. She'd be depleting this forest's supply. No, she needed something that would actually fill her up.

So she found a bear. This, she found by sound rather than by smell, but she made sure to breath in its scent so she'd remember it for next time. A large brown bear, sticking its nose into a tree. Once she was more experienced, she'd be able to tell more things by its aroma, like if it was a mother with cubs to feed, but she knew nothing but the fact that she was hungry, and this should satiate her. It had to. It growled as she approached, shifting onto its back legs. It towered over her, and she should be terrified, but she knew unless it managed to rip off her head it couldn't kill her, and if it couldn't kill Jade then she would win. So she stared at it, calculating. She took off with a giant leap that overtook the bear, landing behind it. It turned towards her quicker than Jade had thought, so she sprang back up, this time landing on its shoulders. It bellowed and growled, trying to throw her off. It batted its large, clawed paws up at her, but Jade sunk down onto its back, wrapping her thin arms around its thick fur, around its neck. And then she began to squeeze. Squeeze, with all her strength, and the demon's strength, she felt the bones began to crack and break, and it made a wheezing sound, and she did her very best not to think about Winnie the Pooh or Baloo, or the damned Berenstain bears, because this was her meal, and she had to eat.

And with a roar, it tumbled forward, shuddered once and did not move. Jade had to rip out some of the fur before she could even get to the bear's flesh, and she winced at her own defacement of the bear, but she still had been spitting out small hairs from the vole, she didn't want any coarse hide from the bear. She lowered its fangs into it and began to drink. It wasn't as sweet as the vole's blood had been—she was beginning to notice a difference. She figured that that was why bear wasn't a meat that humans ate, not like cows or pigs, because it was kind of bitter, but she was hungry and she barely noticed. Halfway through, she began to think a bit clearly, no longer near-crazed by starvation, and she thought then of Spike. He must have been hungry himself. She didn't know the last time he had eaten, nor how long she had been dead for. She doubted he'd gotten any sustenance during the waiting. That problem was solved easy enough. She had been starving, and was still peckish, but she hadn't gotten any larger, and there was only so much she could eat. She would have room to share. So she lifted the bear up, resting its large head on her small shoulder and dragged it back to Spike.

He might have been sleeping when she returned, but he was startled up, his eyes widened with shock at the sight of her crashing through the trees, dragging a large bear behind her. "Bloody hell," He exclaimed, glancing from her to the bear and back to the bear again. "You didn't have to bring it back, what are you, a bloody cat?" Oh. She wasn't trying to bring back her prey for praises, as Jade's cats _had_ done, on occasions that Jade had let them outside, and they had engaged in their primal desires to hunt. He hadn't realised that she had brought it to share, although perhaps he was just a bit unnerved by the sight of a woman, barely over a hundred and ten pounds pulling a large, full-grown brown bear behind her, though he was a vampire, he should have been used to it by now.

"I thought you might be hungry," She explained, quietly, as she brought the bear to rest at his feet. He glanced at it like it was repulsive, then shot his gaze back up to her, his eyebrows arched, as he sputtered.

"Y-you thought I might be hungry? Bloody hell, woman, I don't need you to do my shopping for me. And if I did, I wouldn't have ordered a damn bear."

She glanced back down at its prone figure. "Oh." She couldn't think of what else to say. He didn't know it had been wrong, didn't know why, but it had upset Spike for some reason. Maybe it was the same as how he had snapped at her at the way she had lifted him up when they had left the temple. He didn't like being taken care of, perhaps. "Sorry." Jade added, in a mutter, feeling a bit shamefaced. She had tried, hadn't she? She didn't know that it would bother him, or that it'd be a problem. Or that he didn't like bear. She stood, a bit uncertainly over its body. Well, she could finish it off, then, but now she felt self-conscious. Her demon was telling her to eat. Her body had continued to heal, much better now, and dragging the bear's corpse over here hadn't agitated her shoulder wound too much, now it was just tender. A little more blood and that'd do the trick. But instead, she crouched over the bear's body, stroking the rough furs absentmindedly with her fingers, feeling embarrassed. She couldn't look at Spike.

She heard his sigh, his awkward shuffling as he pushed off from the tree and hobbled over to her. He kneeled by her. "Look, Slay—" He stopped, awkwardly. She knew the end of that word. Slayer, but she wasn't one any more, was she? Not completely. "I appreciate it. I'll take a nip or two," He was trying to comfort her, but she still stared out to the bear, her gaze defocused. She had avoided looking at Spike as much as possible, as she was doing now. She was afraid what she would see in his eyes. If he was repulsed by her as this offering, if he was afraid, if he was outrage. The first two were the worst, that'd he fear her or be disgusted by her.

"Look at me, yeah?" He had noticed, then, and reached towards her. She could have dodged it, but that would be snuffing him, and she never wanted to be cruel for cruelty's sake, especially not to Spike, so she kept herself stock-still and he touched his fingers to her chin. His were cold, made sense, for it was dark out, night, even if it seemed to be coming closer to morning, and he had no protection from the wind. He was chilly, and Jade was only a bit warmer from her exertion. With pressure that she could resist, he pulled her face in his direction, and she could no longer avert her eyes, meeting his gaze.

His blue eyes were clear. There was no judgement there, no panic or detestation. He was calm, patient even. He had lowered himself ungracefully to the ground, his legs splayed out underneath them because he couldn't sit on them, so he used his broken arm as a careful prop, his good hand under her chin. "What are you so scared of?" He asked in a husky, low voice, his eyes searching between hers, pausing as they noted her trembling bottom lip.

"I—" She didn't know how to answer him. She was so confused. She was alive, then she was dead, now she was a vampire, and it was in the spawn of a few hours, and it was overwhelming, and she thought and she hoped that she might have come out the same, somehow. And she had changed, even with the magic, with the talisman around her neck, she wasn't what she hadn't been before. She was something less than human, and the necklace was a reminder of that. So she pulled it out of where she had tucked it under her shirt, let it be displayed, that swirling, white mass contained within a glass prison. "That this is all that's keeping me from being like Mandy," She confessed, holding the bauble in her fingers. He glanced down at it, the white reflecting in his blue gaze, as he looked at it, captivated or curious. When he reached towards it, she shuddered, barring the impulse to tear it away. She'd rather die, die for good and for the last time, rather than have that talisman taken from her neck. She didn't know exactly the extent of the darkness that awaited her if she lost her soul, but she was terrified to find out. So now, even in the presence of Spike, whom she trusted, she hesitated when his fingers brushed up to it, but it _was_ Spike, so she didn't pull away.

He held it in his fingers, and she leaned towards him to keep the necklace as loose as possible, so it wouldn't be taut, and snap. It was a fragile thing, her soul. She'd taken it for granted all twenty one years of her life, and now, for the rest of eternity, she'd have to protect it, every second of every day. It was a curse of her own, but it had been necessary, and it had been worth it, at least, she hoped so. Hoped those Slayers that were alive, and not turned, and all the lives that they might have ended, were worth her one death. Had to be.

"So, makes sure you don't come back, eh?" He said in an almost teasing, but still derisive tone, his eyes matching hers. Her face would have burned with shame, had blood still pooled there, but by the way she glanced away from him quickly confirmed her guilt. She had lied to him.

"Didn't want you to worry," She mumbled, and with a light scoff, he released her Soul and let it fall back against her chest. Unconsciously, she reached up and immediately tucked it back under her shirt, as if that extra layer would protect it from harm.

"Thought I might put a damper on your plans to get yourself killed, did you?" Scorn was in his tone, not softened by anything now, and in shock, Jade brought her gaze back to him, her eyes wide.

"What?" She asked, appalled. "It wasn't on purpose—"

"Wasn't it? Sure made sure you got to come along. Got the tar beaten out of you enough so that Super-bitch would pick you first. Was that it, then? Being a Slayer not enough for you?"

"That's what you think!?" Jade snapped back, insulted and hurt. That was what Spike thought of her, that it was some sort of power trip? He didn't know how the very idea of a Slayer-Vampire had terrified her, repulsed her, the idea of that repugnant hybrid, two very powerful things, twisted together and made stronger. It was too much power for anyone to control, not without consequences, and she hadn't made the decision lightly. Hadn't wanted to make it at all. It had been a last resort, as she had told Willow it would be. And she had gotten the 'tar' beaten out of her because she had tried so hard to keep herself from having to depend on it. She looked back at Spike, who wasn't backing down, contempt in his burning blue gaze. "I didn't _want_ to!"

"Then why didn't you tell me?" He yelled at her, his dark brow furrowing furiously. "Why'd you keep it to yourself, then?"

"Because it might not have worked," she shouted back, embarrassed and angry to find that tears were threatening at the corner of her eyes, because she never liked being yelled at by Spike, and she was enough of a mess already, she was frustrated and she was tired, and she was _dead_. And she had never wanted it to be. "Willow did the magic—"

"Oh, so Willow knew, did she?" Spike interrupted with derision. So he was hurt, then, maybe, that she hadn't confided in him. Because she had hoped, naively, that she might not have had to. Obviously, she was wrong. Very wrong.

"But it might not have worked," She continued in a fierce tone, ignoring his disruption with a fierce, angry glare. "Might not have captured my soul, so it wouldn't have changed anything, regardless. Or, it might have only kept part of my soul." She said the last part with less volume, more of a shuddering gulp. That possibility had frightened her even more than it not working at all. A Slayer-Vampire with half a soul, she would have gone insane. Control was hard enough with a full one, missing part of it, she'd be more dangerous than Mandy. No coherent thought at all. Spike let out a glower, but even he was beginning to see reason, to believe her, at least, that she hadn't done it on purpose.

"You should still have bloody told me," He said, stubbornly, but he was no longer shouting, just a glistening disappointment in his gaze that was even harder to bear.

"If I told you," Jade murmured in a shaky tone, "It would have made it real. And I didn't want to die. I thought—I hoped we might not need it. That I didn't have to die." She couldn't look at him anymore, her word sounding like pathetic, piteous whining, so she stopped before she kept repeating the same words over and over again. Didn't want to die. Didn't have to die. Die. _Died_. They were still sitting so close to each other, one of his legs brushing her knee from where she had crouched. Now, in the void of their shouting, they were absolutely silent. The forest wasn't, and Jade could hear it all around them, the twittering of nocturne animals, the hooting of the owls. Strange how she barely noticed it was night. Even being a Slayer, the night instilled a wary fear in her, as it should. Just because she could combat the creatures of the night didn't mean that she didn't need to be cautious. But now she _was_ the creature of the night, one they should fear. But all she felt like was a very tired, young woman who was absolutely lost, and drained.

And then he pulled her into his arms. Much as he had the last time she had been at her lowest, when the spirits had been killing her through that tear, and she thought she might die without a fight. She'd been wrong, then, but somehow, _how_ she died didn't seem to mean all that much now. She had still died. She had still failed, it didn't matter if it was in her bed or at the hands of Mandy. She let herself be pulled in, for as hurt as she was at Spike's accusations, she didn't have the will to pretend she wanted to resist him. Her ear rested against his hard chest, his smooth chin resting in the tangled nest of her hair. "I'm sorry, alright?" He said after a moment. "You saved them all—nothing selfish 'bout that. Should have known that you didn't—" He didn't finish his words, but she could fill in the blanks. Should have known that she hadn't _wanted_ it. But she didn't say anything, didn't need to lash out at him and tell him, yeah, he should have had more faith in her, because she was tired, and she didn't need a scornful barb because his arm, wrapped around her, did well to ease her feelings of hurt. He meant it as a comfort, nothing romantic about it, as much as she might like it to be, she accepted the soothing feel of it.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," She murmured, accepting his apology with one of her own.

"Doesn't matter now," He said gruffly, and she wanted to believe it, because she had hated lying to Spike, but she hadn't known what else. If she had told him, she was sure he wouldn't have let her come, at least not without making a big deal out of it. There were many things that could have gone wrong. In Jade's mind, many things already had. Becoming a Slayer-Vampire had never been part of the plan.

"You're still a barmy lass, though," Spike added, breaking into her thoughts. She let out a slight smile, reacting without meaning to. It had been the first time she had smiled since her death, except when she had been taunting Mandy. And even while she was deep in her own mind, Spike had reached in, his snarky tone humorous.

"I think you mean bonnie lass," Jade answered, her tone soft, lips still curled up into a smile. She tilted up her face to him as she pushed, gently back from his one-armed embrace so she could see him clearly. And also, because he didn't need any more weight on him, even if she didn't add very much. "Like a wee bonnie lass."

"I'm British, luv, not Scottish. And I definitely meant barmy."

* * *

To appease her, he had drunk some of the bear. Sodding hell, he _had_ been getting hungry. But the way she had come tromping through the trees with her catch, dropping it at his feet like she had owed him something, like it was her job to take care of him, it had rubbed him the wrong way. He was a bit prickly at the thought of being nursed like an invalid. Hell when he _had_ been an invalid, trapped in that wheelchair with only Dru to make sure he got fed, he hadn't been too particular about that either. And he and Jade had always been equals, didn't want to go changing that now. Although, it _had_ been changed. She was a sodding super Slayer-Vampire now. That was plenty of goddamn imbalance that tilted the scale.

But she hadn't done that on purpose. She'd stressed it, that it hadn't been her intention, and it made him feel like less of a fool, like he hadn't played right into her hands, giving her what she wanted, a chance at the power and strength that a Slayer-Vampire gave her. Although, she didn't seem to be gratified with it. She was sunk into her head. At least his accusations had pulled her out of it for a minute, gave her some reason to fight back, instead of that distant look in her eyes when she played with the bear's pelt. No, she wasn't quite on the ground with him, but that didn't matter. That could take time, and they had plenty of it. Dead, after all. And he'd keep it, just the two of them, until she was able to control her cravings around hunger. He owed her that much, however long it took. Because she _had_ saved them all, the Slayers, Buffy, as she had promised to him. Sacrificed quite a bit, from the way she was feeling, so he could choose to not be an arse about it. Had already almost reduced her to tears, but then he'd pulled a smile from her too, short-lived but there, and it made her more normal, more the Jade that Spike knew.

It was cold, between the trees. They had sat there, after Jade had buried the bear, some odd fixation of hers, though he 'sposed that it was better than leaving the corpse to rot, although wasn't that what happened when big mama bears passed away in the wilderness with no human to profit? But it kept her busy, though not for long, and she had sat back among the roots with him as they waited for Angel. It was some time past the first hour, so at least Spike could yell at him for being a slow git, but the fool did have some distance to make up first before he could reach them. Spike detected Angel first, to his smugness. She had the senses, as did Spike, but she wasn't so good at honing them yet. And it was easier to seek out a heartbeat than to think of the other sounds that vampires made. For Angel, it was the sod's tromping feet through pines and twine that revealed him.

"Took you long enough," Spike drawled as Angel stepped through the trees, the big bulky lug looking a bit resigned. Jade stood easily and quickly. She seemed a bit more relaxed now that she had that blood in her, though she had drank a surprising amount, for a body as small as hers, Spike had deduced that Slayer-Vampires might have a higher metabolism, burned more energy for their more explosive feats. That'd be a bit of a problem, meant she'd have to eat quite often, and a lot, but these were things that they'd figure out, and no hurry to it. It'd take as long as it needed, but he didn't want to be stuck in sodding Romania forever. They had to get back to the States eventually, and using magic meant finding human-witches, which Spike didn't want to risk, not yet. So that left Angel's sodding plane, which was going to be used for a fair bit, carting all those displaced Slayers around. And not all of them were part of the Slayer Organization, though he imagined Buffy was doing her fancy speech bit to convince them to join her. Always was an opportunist.

"I'm here," Angel said, ignoring's Spike jibe. "What did you want, Spike?" His tone wasn't as demanding as it could be, and Angel's black eyes travelled to the silent Jade, who gave him a light nod and a quiet hello. Least she could speak this time around, instead of huddled up in her ball at the top of a statue. But she emanated a curious aura, no doubt wondering what the next step was, and why Angel was there. She was a bit anxious, too, but kept herself still, and Spike didn't seek to comfort her, he'd explain quickly enough.

"Your jet. Need us a ride back to States—I don't mean right now, you git." Spike raised his hand as Angel opened his mouth to explain, not patiently, that he was using the jet right now, to cart all the lost little Slayers around, 'least the ones that could fit. "A week. We'll be in Ola, Russia."

"Yoshkar-Ola?" Angel looked confused, perplexed. "That's not close."

"No, Ola, that sodding little port town. Be a quicker journey that way, just a couple hours, take us back into Cali. We'll find some little secluded hut there, but best be close to the action."

"Ola's even further, Spike." Angel pointed out. Alright, so he wasn't wrong. And with Jade's whole temptation for the goodie little human blood bags, Spike needed to up the time a bit. As vampires, they were faster than normal humans on foot, though Spike was a bit ragged, so he wasn't winning any speed races any time soon, human's technology had invented lovely little cars, and that'd speed them up a bit. Still, might take them too close to civilization, so they had to be prepared for the chance they might have to walk a fair way. Not to mention, they were a bit nocturnal. "Right, a month, then." A month, walking cross the arse-end of Europe, but it couldn't be helped. Probably needed that much time to get the Organization up and running, so they couldn't get the plane any quicker. And meant a shorter flight, and what else would they do, cool their heels around the mountains? Least they had a destination to get to. "And make sure the pilot's not human."

"Spike…" Angel had that damned 'I'm the leader and I got a better plan' tone, as he calmly but cautiously looked between Jade and Spike. "Is that the best idea? It's a dangerous time right now," He meant Jade, her affinity for blood. "She's going to have a hard time stifling her…urges."

Well, bloody hell, he knew that already. That was why he was doing this, wasn't he? Plain as bloody day. "I _know_ that," Spike returned irritability. "That's why we're taking an tour of Russia's sights and sounds. Keep us out of main population for a few."

"I'm just saying, you might not be enough," Angel glanced to Jade, apologetically, because he was talking about her as if she wasn't there, throwing out all his suspicions and doubts while she could hear every word. Hell, she probably had them herself, but she didn't need to hear them from someone else, did she? That'd just lessen her self-confidence, and she didn't need any of that. "It might be best to have some magic to help, for now. Considering what she is…"

Spike let out a sharp growl at that, a fierce roar curdling in his throat. "She's not going to be magicked like Dana. She's not a bloody threat. She can control it if we give her a sodding chance."

"But if she can't? You saw Mandy. She took us all out; you're not even going to slow her down." Angel continued a bit urgently, reasonably, even, but Spike refused to see it.

"She won't." Spike replied stubbornly, angrily. He felt a touch at his elbow then, Jade's cold fingers pulling him from his anger. Her expression was calm, placid even, as she looked up to Spike.

"It's alright," She murmured, trying to placate him, but she was wrong.

"It is bloody _not_ alright. You don't need to be trapped up like some sort of an animal. You need blood and time, not magic."

"Spike—" She began to say, which Angel echoed a heart-beat later, although the great lug shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot, as if interfering on something private.

"You trust me, Sl—Jade?" Spike interrupted impatiently, pulling his trump card. She closed her mouth, a whole surge of emotions crossing her soft blue eyes, but at the forefront: loyalty.

She nodded obediently, "Yes." She answered.

"Then it's settled. Off to Russia, meet us in Ola in a month. And try to find us somewhere to stay in California that's a bit secluded, yeah?" He turned his head back to Angel, the dark-haired vampire stifling a sigh.

"It's not personal," Angel started to explain, though Spike had little patience for him. Never had too much love lost for Angel or his counterpart Angelus. Things he hated—and also liked—about both of them. He'd played by Angel's rules for a while in Los Angeles, when he was on the older Vampire's turf, but this was his, now. Whatever was to be done about Jade, Spike'd make the decisions, not anyone else. "Just trying to be cautious, Spike."

"Whatever." Spike sneered. "I just want to hear one word from you mate, which is 'deal'." He flipped up his finger as he did so, expressive and flamboyant.

Angel's shoulders rose, and then fell, and he acquiesced with a small nod. "Deal, then." Angel accepted. "The jet will be in Ola in a month."

"No human pilot," Spike reminded him.

"No human pilot," Angel echoed with a sigh. His dark eyes sought Jade, and Spike felt overprotective, then, from the scrutinizing, cautious look that Angel directed at her. She didn't need to be looked at like a dangerous animal. She wasn't.

"It really isn't personal," Angel repeated, gently, to Jade. He glanced at her, but her face was soft, too kind on the arse-hat Angel. But she was always a bit of a softie. Apparently, that hadn't left her. She still let people take blows at her, Slayers at the Organization, and Angel, like she agreed with them that she didn't deserve to be trusted. But she'd done bloody enough to earn it. What more did she have to do? She damn well died for the cause. The thought of her being locked up for it was unforgiveable. Not a sodding chance.

"It's alright," Jade said softly. "I understand." Angel shrugged his shoulders, and turned to melt—not quietly at all, if the lug was going to continue to keep crashing through the twigs—when Jade stepped past Spike and towards Angel, just a half a step, but the older vampire stiffened and stopped. "Do you—do you want to see it?" Jade asked, surprising the two other vampires. Spike hadn't even thought of it, that Angel might care about the way Jade kept her soul until he saw the way Angel's eyes widened when Jade pulled it from the collar of her shirt. She'd remembered then, even more than Spike, that Angel had a precarious soul. Jade's wasn't going to disappear each time she had a moment of 'perfect happiness'—which Spike had always found as bollocks—but it could still be lost to her, if that necklace was torn from her neck like Mandy had tried to do.

Angel stared at the soft light, mesmerized. He cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away from it and up to Jade. "And now, exactly, did it work?" The older vampire asked, trying not to seem too excited, too hopeful, but Spike knew the bugger well enough to know what he was thinking. 'Course the lug might take having a Soul-necklace over having a cursed one, since the whole Happiness thing was a bit tenuous. Give him a chance to be back with Buffy, the sod, and Spike resented that fact, but didn't interrupt as Jade spoke to explain.

"Willow was the one that made it, enchanted it. Said it was similar to a Muo-Ping? Contains a soul. It draws up the soul as it leaves the body, keeps it within the talisman, and as long as it is worn, the soul remains." Jade answered, almost encouragingly. "But it's not a certain thing, even if the magic is done properly. Just a chance."

Angel mouthed Jade's word without repeating it aloud, then nodded. "Thanks," the burly man said, still trying to contain his hope. He had taken Jade's warning seriously, but Spike had no doubts that Angel would be following through with Willow to check it out himself next chance he got. "I should go. Good luck." He said to the two of them, then disappeared into the shadows. Yeah, he should leave, Spike felt like shouting out after him, instead he only yelled one more reminder.

"A month!"

Then Angel was gone, and it was just Jade and him in the middle of the Romanian forest, with the furred corpse of a bear buried somewhere nearby. Bloody fun. They had quite a bit of a journey ahead of them, and though the bear's blood he drank was making him feel better, healing him up, a broken leg and a busted knee was still going to slow him down some. Not to mention the—

"Spike. The sun." Jade interrupted his thoughts. Right. That was the reason for the deadline. And though the sun _itself_ hadn't risen, there were definite light streaks in the side, as it prepared its rather unwelcome head into the horizon. And they had no solid roofs in sight, going back to the temple probably wasn't an option, as it was likely still populated. All they had before them were lots and lots of trees and a lightening sky.

"Bollocks."


	2. Night Two

**NIGHT TWO**

"Thank bloody God," Spike expressed vehemently at the disappearing of the sun into the thick-treed horizon. "I've got dirt on every sodding inch of me." He flapped at his duster as he pushed up from beneath the tree's root, dragging himself out of the ground. Reminded him of the old days, and not the good ones. Least this time he didn't have to bloody up his knuckles trying to free himself. No, the bloodying of knuckles came _before_ , when they were quickly and desperately trying to dig themselves the bloody hole that they had laid in all night. They'd found an over turned tree, with large roots that had enough space between them already, some slightly indented ground, so they'd dug themselves a space to slip into, using the tree as their protection from the sunshine, just as it began to tickle their skin. It'd been a bit worse on Jade; she might have been a Slayer in her past life, but she was a fledgling vampire now, and it had burned at her more quickly than it had Spike. He had shoved her into the hole first, and they had nestled in to the dirt, their bodies pressed up against each other for quite a while.

Thank God it had been Jade's front to his back, and not the other way around. He'd have a hard time explaining that one, but he was still a man, and they had been terribly close. He had felt the press of her breasts against his shoulder blades, and her thighs had rubbed the back of his legs. He definitely had had a hard time sleeping like that, so he had stayed huddled and still, trying to ignore the feel of her so close to him. Bloody distracting. At least for a while, for Jade had a bit more energy than Spike, and no broken arms, so she had dug them a bit more space, gave them some breathing room—in a manner of speaking, giving them an underground cave that they could at least spread their legs out in. Couldn't spread it too far, since the roots only provided so much support, and dirt kept calling on their heads, but they had managed. Might have one of the worst desperate shelters to escape from the sun that he'd ever had, but he'd had more terrible company. Found he was even perhaps a bit regretful that she had broken their very close contact, and that confused him.

"I thought you said it was a nice little hovel," Jade said, mimicking his accent in a teasing manner. Least she could joke. She drifted between her moods, some more reflective and somber, some damn near depressing and silent, and some where she was acting with a degree of normalcy. She was a mess, at least appearance-wise, as she broke through after him, accepting his hand as he assisted her through the roots. Her hair's elastic had broken, which she lamented, for her long, navel-reaching hair was now a dirty, tangled mess, rife with twigs and soil, and she had patted it back with dissatisfaction. Now, loose strands fell in front of her forehead, which she brushed away with an equally dirty hand. Her white, porcelain face was covered in smudges of dirt, but Spike expected he was no better. He literally took handfuls of gathered dirt from out of his duster's pockets and flung them irritability to the ground, where it sodding belonged.

"Yeah, good job and all that, giving us room for our feet, but I've had enough of being buried alive—unalive, there's no dressing up what it is. God, got to find something a hell of a lot more suitable for tonight." If he had to spend the rest of the month living under trees, he might kill something. It was then, with that thought, he checked his wallet, which _did_ thankfully, have some money in it, and Jade's, which had even less. Four hundred bob, for a month. Bloody hell, why hadn't he thought to ask for some money from Angel? Git must have had some, though he was a bit stiff with it, still, four hundred dollars wouldn't rent them a car for very long, or manage many hotel nights. God, it was going to a long three weeks.

Made more evident by the fact that barely more than an hour after leaving their tree hovel, which was going to make some little tyke happy as hell when he discovered the little cave, Jade had to hunt, being hungry again. Of course, she had made through the whole day, but just barely. He'd seen it, after she'd woken and hadn't been able to go back to sleep again, a certain restlessness to her, a jittering that'd settled there for quite a while. She hadn't woken him, but seemed to be pleased when he woke on his own, and she'd been chatty enough to engage in conversation with him, though Spike suspected he was also being used at a distraction. He didn't care, if that was what she needed to get through her hunger, he'd dance in a tutu. No, he wouldn't, but he'd at least talk to the lass. He never had much trouble with it. She was easy to talk to, not too clingy, and funny enough most of the time, though she wasn't quite the same as she was before. She'd get there again, Spike was sure of it. Sure, he was nothing like William Pratt, after getting his soul back, but that was over a hundred and twenty two years of being a demon, so yes, there was expected to be some change. But maybe it was just the process then, and not just the fact that the soul was taken away, because it was still a struggle to her, he could see that, hell any bloke could see that. And any length of time without talking, she'd take on that distant look, and come so still and so far away, Spike wondered what she was thinking about.

She had that look now, as she fed on the pair of wolves she had caught for Spike and herself. He was doing better, with the blood she provided him and just his healing in general, that his broken leg had set, though tenderly, it hadn't re-snapped, and provided his weight, if he was careful enough, and his knee's swelling had gone down a lot as well. His ribs, those were still giving him hell, but they too were gradually reforming. A few days, hopefully not more than that, he'd be right as rain. Jade was still helping him speed along, which was embarrassing but necessary, so he accepted it without too much complaining. But still a bit. Just plain demoralizing, it was.

"Better than that bear last night," Spike commented, his mouth full, blood dripping down his lips. He'd never been the cleanest of eaters, hadn't cared all that much about the blood mess, in fact it was damn right intimidating to his victims, the ones that hadn't been eaten but were about to. Jade, on the other hand, never let the blood spill onto her face, taking slow, steady gulps. He thought it might just be a show of her restraint, that she didn't need to drink so quickly, but he realised that it was more it made her feel squeamish and likely embarrassed to have blood smeared over her face, which had never bothered Spike, hell it was just a natural part of feeding. So was vamp-face, but Jade always waited for the last second to draw out her fangs, as if she didn't want him to see it. Another embarrassment that she didn't need to have. It was part of the territory now, and she should learn to accept that face as well. It was bloody part of her now, nothing to be ashamed about.

He feigned being sated—he was close enough, when he saw the hungry look Jade hadn't meant to shoot at his wolf when hers became a shrivelled, empty corpse. Casually, as if he hadn't wanted it anyway, he shoved the wolf's corpse over to her, pleased when she didn't make a big deal out of pretending not to accept it. No, with gratitude, she ducked her head and sank in, depleting the wolf's body of the rest of its blood. She seemed less peckish then, and after that ceremonious burying—seemed to him a waste of time, but she did it quickly enough that he couldn't complain too much, they were on their way. He was struggling to keep up the pace, hell, she was holding back enough that he grudgingly relented to letting her assist him again. They had a ways to go, past mountains and forests—and that was just to get out of bloody Romania. No need to be stiff then, when they had a lot of distance to cover.

But he felt hesitant when Jade closed the distance between the two of them, her cold fingers brushing his skin as she gripped his wrist, directing his arm over her shoulders, resting her grip lightly on his hip like she had before. But it seemed a bit too close, a bit too intimate. Like during the morning, when they had been nearly bloody spooning, hunched in that dirt, and though he had plenty of curses he had wanted to say, he had been distracted, impossibly distracted, by her nearness, in a way he never had before. And his body had reacted, an erotic reception that had surprised him. He'd never thought of Jade that way before, and it wasn't like she was trying to bring it out of him.

They had been close out of necessity, not like she was rubbing up and down, she was still as she could be, until she had buried her head in the collar of his duster jacket to keep the dirt from falling into her mouth. And he had shuddered, _shuddered_ , because the unexpected feeling of her nose and lips pressing to the vulnerable nape of his neck had caused a tingling deep in his stomach, a hardening in his crotch. So unexpected, and without meaning to. And now, of all times, when Jade was messed up enough, understandably traumatized by what had happened to her, and Spike still couldn't help his sex drive. He was a bit of an arse, he was. And Jade had noticed his shudder, and that was when she had worked to making their hole a bit bigger, so they'd have some room to their selves. She had did it without comment or expression, he had still felt like a git. It wasn't a bad shudder, but she had taken it like he had been uncomfortable with her nearness—and he _had_ been. But not in a bad way. In a wickedly good way that confused the hell out of him because he should only feel that way about Buffy.

So he was stiffer then he should be when accepting help from Jade, because he was the one that needed to be vigilant for the both of them, and he couldn't afford to get distracted, because if he did, and Jade lost her own careful control, Spike would be responsible for it. So he couldn't be thinking about Jade, he needed to be constantly tasting the air, on alert, making sure that they didn't get close to a river, and not thinking about her body as it was pressed to his to keep him upright and steady as she basically moved for the both of them, taking his weight easily with her lightning speed. They didn't talk much like this, because Spike was grumpy about being half-carried like a burden, and because Jade needed her focus to make sure they didn't wander into a tree. She wasn't quite used to her speed, and they had more than a few close calls, nearly tripping over roots or into trees, not like it'd kill them or anything unless they walked, heart-first into a tree branch.

Should try to avoid that.

The good thing about travelling at night is that there were less nuts travelling the unkempt forest, nothing but a wide array of howling and hooting animals that they no longer had to fear. Even bears, now. That was a change. Spike might be—might have been—a big bad vampire, but bears were not to be taken lightly. Could cleave something right off if one wasn't careful. And they didn't have to worry about that anymore, because apparently Jade could take down a damn bear without taking a scratch. Bloody hell. He thought back, then, without meaning to, when he had been a half-starved corpse, tied up in Rupert bloody Giles' apartment, where sodding Indians had turned into a bear—a bloody bear—while he all roped up with a sodding half-dozen arrows stuck out of him. Buffy had saved him then, albeit a bit reluctantly, and Spike had often thought, if one of those arrows had just stuck through his heart instead, he would have been saved a lot of pain and suffering.

As it was, though, he was where he needed to be.

* * *

"Stop here," Spike ordered in her ear, as the gurgling of a stream became evident to the both of them. Spike had noticed it first, to her chagrin. All his senses seemed so attuned, and she was still being distracted by the calls of all the wild around them. There was a lot to listen to, and seemed like there was even more to tune out. And she had plenty of things to focus on. Tree, branch, root, don't run into that, duck, turn. It was hard, at this speed, and she was a bit relieved that he was telling her to stop. He'd been quiet most of the way, minus the grumbles of "Don't bloody kill me!" Whenever they skirted too close to an outward tree branch. But now, they stopped, just before the stream, which lapped over smooth rocks and twigs, a quiet trickle here, but became louder downstream. Jade released Spike, a bit reluctantly, glancing after him when his body stepped away from his. It wasn't like she missed his body heat—he didn't provide much and she didn't need it, but it had been nice, being that close to him, the smell of Spike, the feel of him. Had been nice last night—morning, for a little while.

But he seemed uncomfortable with it, rigid even for a corpse, so she, as quickly and as casually as possible, had built them up some more room instead, so that he hadn't needed to be so close to her if he didn't want to. And he had reacted, almost relieved, making sure that he could spread out without touching her. It had stung, a bit, but Jade didn't blame him. How could she? She was a corpse now, after all, nothing living or breathing about her, not to mention, she wasn't Buffy, so curling up next to him was wrong, she supposed. Nothing eye-opening about that, so she'd be a little more constrictive with her touch, if it made him uncomfortable. But then, helping him through the forest hadn't helped matters. So she should be relieved, and not disappointed, when he walked over to the stream, because she shouldn't be pining after him, and if she had hoped her little obsession would end after dead, apparently she was wrong.

She just found him more appealing, ever clear, smooth line of his appearance, his clear blue eyes. And the fact that, while he grumbled about it, he was willing to spend a month, _a month_ , tracking across the larger part of Eurasia, to keep her secluded and away from the human population. She was wholly grateful, but she hoped, hoped with her unbeating heart, that he wasn't doing it out of obligation, or guilt. She didn't want his pity, didn't want him to babysit her because he had to. She didn't know why anyone would _want_ to be stuck on babysitting the bloodthirsty Slayer-Vampire duty, but she hoped that he did. It'd make it easy, make _her_ feel less guilty. Spike had gone and rescued his girl, and hadn't had so much of a moment with her, because Jade was about to vamp out and start eating. Or at least tried to. It was her hope that that many Slayers would have been able to subdue her before she had spilled a single drop, since she had no Vampire-Witch to help her out. She had almost desired it, a quick, final death, where she would have known for certain that she hadn't hurt anyone.

However, it didn't look like it was going to be that easy. Looked like it was going to be a long, arduous road, as long as the one before them, and she couldn't complain, because complaining would mean she was ungrateful, and she didn't deserve to be. She was alive, wasn't she? With this power, and with a soul. It had happened so rarely, and she had already saved people with it, so moping and moaning about it seemed a terrible way to repay her fortune. But she couldn't help the gloom that swung around her head, that sought to convince her she would have been better off dead after all, that one mistake could cost her her Soul, and all the good she had done would be overwritten. And the thought of what could happen, once the beast, who had roared with such rage at being used and then locked away, was a terrifying one. And she couldn't let her guard down, even for a second, because she could never let the demon out.

"Need a bit of a wash. All this dirt. You too. Look like some cheap set from an old horror film," Spike drawled as he kneeled—a bit stiffly, Jade noticed, but slowly, rather than agonizingly, next to the water. Jade didn't take his words with much insult, stepping a few paces down from him to give him that space he obviously desired. She thought of splashing herself with the water, but from Spike's progression, it wasn't going very quickly, and the stream itself was deep enough to hold a body. So the quicker route would be to just submerge herself completely. She still quaked at the thought, even though she no longer felt the cold—being the small, very little body-fat human that she had been, jumping into the ice cold water would have been risking pneumonia. But not for her, not now. She reached up to her worn, torn and dirt-covered jacket, dropping it to pebbled ground. Spike glanced to her, but didn't say anything, even as she took off her shoes and socks, nothing until she, trying to ignore his presence—should be silly to be embarrassed in front of him—reached for the bottom hem of her shirt.

He barked out an, "What are you doing?" He sounded angry, and it startled her.

"Didn't want to get my clothes wet," Jade answered back uncertainly. He was glaring at her, blue eyes a blazing gleam in the scarce moonlight. She would have blushed, had blood still gathered to her cheeks, but it was, she found her casualness embarrassing. It shouldn't be. Hell, they'd had their shirts off in front of each other plenty of times, but it had always been necessary, for bandaging up a wound, mostly. She'd thought that had been alright, but to Spike, it was apparently infuriating. She took in a quaky breath she didn't need. "Did you want me to—to move downstream?" It sounded silly in her ears, like they were back to being stark acquaintances, people who were awkward around each other, and not used to each other's presence. But she had been wrong, apparently, and her previous confidence was gone. She had hastily let go of the bottom of her shirt, her fingers fluttering around uncertainly.

"No, bloody hell, just hurry up, alright? We don't have time to waste, and I'm not bloody curling up into another wormy hole when the sun comes up." He might well as added _with you_ , when he mentioned the hole, and Jade flinched. He was angry with her, again, due to her clumsy carelessness. She still was unsure of herself, since he had told her he didn't need to move, but he had seemed so irritated before that she was hesitant. Though waiting too long would likely spark another angry yell from him, and she didn't have the spirit to take any more of his reprimanding, or whatever it was. She glanced down her shirt, which was bloody, stained and ripped from their battle with Mandy, and now covered in dirt—barely worth keeping dry anyway, so with a swiftness that he had demanded, she stripped off only her jeans instead, for the thought of walking around with those for a long time was an uncomfortable one. She felt a bit more vulnerable, with her noticeably pale legs exposed, but she had seen from her peripherals that Spike had turned his back.

Not pointedly, as if the sight of her was one he needed to avoid, but in task, as he took handfuls of water and dribbled it down his black duster to wash the dirt away. He was clad in only his tight long sleeved shirt now, which was black as the rest of his clothing, a couple tears and rips in it as well. His broad, muscular shoulders were a tad too mesmerizing from this view, and Jade shook her head to focus her thoughts, tearing her gaze away as she leaped gracefully into the water, landing on a flat stone before the water itself. It was a gushing, icy cold, but it didn't bother her. She let herself be submerged. There was a current, but by snagging a few of the bottom rocks, she kept herself afloat and still easily. It was weird, not needing to breathe. One of the reasons she had never been a good swimmer—one being as a younger child, her muscles were lacking and her frame was slight, enough she just got pushed back to the top anyway, diving without height hadn't been open to her—was the fear she had of asphyxiation, or drowning. Of running out of air, being smothered by the watery depths. She didn't have to worry about that anymore, so the lull of the waves and ripples as they rolled past her were comforting.

She'd never been able to stay submerged for this long before. And as it was, she didn't let herself stay very long, keeping true to Spike's desire to not waste time. She broke from the water's surface with ease, bouncing back up to the bank with Spike. Her hair, well, that was a tangled, lost mess, though she had done her best to ease some of it with her fingers while she had been in the water. Now it fell, heavy and tangled, a sopping weight on her back. It was an annoyance, rather than being heavy, and she lamented the fact that she didn't even have anything to tie it back with. Her skin was free of the dirt and blood, which had been scrubbed away with the water, and her skin was unblemished—except. She couldn't see herself reflected in the water, but as her fingers brushed the skin of her neck, she could feel slight little bumps, scars that seemed ages old, but still present. She touched both sides of her neck then, finding three sets. One from the random, unnamed vampire who had bit her first, and then from Derek and Mandy. They were small, but since the rest of her scars had healed, she had less hope that these would. Likely, they were there to stay. Upon finding the evidence left over from their messy bites, a rise of fury in her chest for how nonchalantly they had feasted upon her, caring naught for her, as if she had been something to be used and disposed. But they had been wrong, and they were dust while she was alive. She had won, hadn't she?

She pulled on her jeans, nearly ripping them. They had stuck a little, on her wet legs, so she had pulled them up as she normally had, but her new normal strength was something she hadn't gotten used to, so her casual movements had almost ripped the pants in two. As it was, there was just a slight tear, matching the many others that her clothes had taken. She'd replace them eventually, although from her gathered money with Spike, she doubted it would be any time soon.

Spike was standing near the edge of the water, morosely tipping out his cigarette pack, which had more dirt than cigarette. He retrieved the last cig, shaking the dirt lose with a disgusted gesture. "Last smoke, and it tastes like dirt," Spike lamented, irritated, though thankfully more at the situation than her. As she approached, his expression seemed more amiable, and after he lit the cigarette, he even offered her a drag. She accepted it between her fingers, pulling it to her lips. She didn't have breath, not as normal, but she still drew the smoke into her mouth, felt it linger there on her tongue, and pushed it back out. It wasn't quite comforting, more of an odd feeling, but it was a bit of normalcy, and so she was grateful, passing it back to Spike with a mute 'thanks'.

After their brief respite, they continued back on their way, with her arms wrapped around Spike once more, as they skimmed through the forest. It was there, as they moved past the mountain, that skimming the roads began to get more tricky, as Spike would only let them cross them if there was no cars nearby. He didn't want any humans near Jade, even if they were in the protective case of a car. She'd argue, but she knew that if she wanted, she could break through the car as easily as if it were made of wood. They weren't faster than her, not if they were close enough, she could overtake it with a leap, tear off the roof and feed on those inside. The thought made her shiver, so she didn't call Spike out on his paranoia. The less chances, the better. But it'd get tricky to avoid every major city and village, until they got to the less dense Russia, they still had Moldova and Ukraine to pass through. And then the majority of Russia. But even with Spike's injuries slowing them down a bit, their pace was still good, more so than any human. They weren't overly far off from the Moldova border, maybe only a few more hours, when Spike insisted they start looking for a proper roof over their heads.

* * *

"There," Spike said, pointing with his free arm. "There's a decrepit looking hut over there." They were in the last stretch of unsettled forest before they'd have to cross the border over to Moldova. There wasn't a lot of stretched out farmland here, there was mostly bloody trees or bloody town, and not a lot in between. Bit of the untamed wilderness, here, though humans were doing their best as they always were, to spread everywhere until there was no good ol' mother nature left untouched. Not that he liked slumming around here with the dirt and trees, and no sodding booze anywhere. It'd be mighty boring, really, if he didn't have company, especially now since he wasn't into the whole hunting down the helpless wanderers bit. No, he was just the companion of a mighty confusing vampire.

That whole bit with the river, when she had been ready to strip, Spike could have pushed her head under water. What was she doing, teasing him like that. And the bint didn't even realise she was doing it, looking at Spike with shock-filled blue eyes, hurt at the fierceness of his tone. So he had hurt her feelings, earning her puppy-dog sad face, making him feel like a true and utter arse. He hadn't mean to be so rough with her, but she was wearing down on his own resolve. Took her to a river to wipe the dirt off her face—like a gentleman, and she tried to take her clothes off. Bloody hell. He couldn't deal with this, not now, not these damn wants, feelings that kept cropping up when he didn't want to. He didn't know why he couldn't just see her as neutral, like he had before, why she had just sidled into her radar without so much as a warning.

Maybe that was the problem, that it hadn't been a large explosion, to draw his attention to it, so he could have seen it coming. No, it was subtle, slow, as she wormed her way in, reaching her way into his life, then into his mind, digging her way in—no. That sounded like she had planned it, sounded too much like Buffy. Buffy had been the one that had forced her way in, took over Spike like a bloody disease, infecting all of him until he very well couldn't have fought it any more. And she was still there, always there, lingering in him. No, Jade wasn't so relentless, hadn't contaminated him, but she had slowly edged her way in, and Spike had started to notice. Now, of all times, he had better things to do than stare at her half-naked body and make fantasies.

So he had looked away before she had undressed, forcing himself to remain still, scrubbing at his duster like it was the only thing in the universe that mattered. Although it did. Fancy leather Italian, that, he still paid more attention to it than he would have if he hadn't been trying to ignore Jade. His reserve had faded a bit on her way _out_ of the water, however, where he had caught more than a fleeting glimpse of her pale, very bare legs as she stepped nimbly onto the pebbled bank and towards her clothes. Hell, he'd seen her half-naked before, when she had been dying from that spirit-mojo bollocks, but he'd ignored it then, because she was dying and sick and there had been other things on his mind. Now he noticed all too clearly, so he had averted his attention back, angrily to his cigarette box. _Get a bloody hold of yourself, git_ , he had coached himself.

Sure, Spike had never been all that talented at the 'holding back' regimen, but didn't mean he couldn't do it. He could do anything, if he tried, just had to want to badly enough. And he would now, because making moon eyes was the exact opposite of what they needed to be doing. Needed to be keeping Jade fed, was the important thing, and teach her how to use her new vampiric qualities, and most importantly—get her used to human presence without wanting to have a snack. And though he had thought they had no deadline, maybe sooner was better than later. Didn't know how long he could do this without going barmy. But he would, and if he had to be an arse to Jade to get it through his own thick skull, he'd do it, because there were things a bit more important than their feelings.

Jade made a stop that was a bit more graceful than her last ones, and the two of them approached the shack with scrutinizing gaze. Yeah, it was a bit of a sad heap, but it was above ground and not dirt. A forgotten cabin in the woods—if it could even be called that, it was a dilapidated shack, barely larger than outhouse—but at least, thankfully, due to the smell, it hadn't been used as one. Spike crept through the doorway, wondering how long it had been standing, this forgotten shack, because it looked like it had been constructed and then forgotten, but it suited the two of them well enough. He heard a cracking from behind him, Jade, who had been inexplicably tearing at a tree. Her reasoning came out quickly enough, as she tore bark free, long strips that she used to cover both the roof, and through the doorway, where no door stood, and might never had. Yeah, it was a sorry mess, but anything was better than a hole.

She joined him inside just before the sky began to lighten, closing the make-shift bark-made door behind her, making sure it was secure. She'd taken enough branches, in all their pine-needle quantity, and draped it around them to block even the barest of cracks. Above ground, and not going to burn them to cinders, Spike would manage. The single room, if it could be called that, was no more than a couple meters across, just a few feet longer than Spike if he sprawled his full height across the floor. The roof was tall enough that he didn't have to crane his head, although he had been laundering languidly, propped against the wall, when Jade had crept back in. So they had taken shelter a bit early, but he hadn't wanted to take a chance again. This was better.

Though it sorely lacked for a telly and comfortable furniture. For any furniture at all, really. Looked like some bored lumberjack had constructed it in his spare time and left the decrepit shack standing, or perhaps it had been someone's home once, years and years ago. Though Spike had travelled through some of Romania with Angel—Angelus, at the time, with Darla and Dru, he hadn't paid that close attention, and he certainly didn't remember waltzing through this area before, or perhaps he would have found a better spot. As it was, Jade's meek persona had come out again, and she wasn't complaining. Hadn't complained at all, really, but there hadn't been many choices better than this, now had they? Except for getting whammied by whatever witchcraft they thought up to hold her, which Spike still detested the very thought of. Like that would solve any problems, putting her in a bubble so she couldn't hurt anyone. She needed the _chances_ , whether they agreed with that risk or not. Needed the chance to do the wrong thing so she could choose to do otherwise. Couldn't take the easy route on this one, wouldn't do her any good in the long run.

"Is, uh, Moldova any different from Romania?" Jade broke the silence, leaning against the opposite wall. "We should reach it by tomorrow, right?" She kept her tone careful, even and curious, looking at Spike as if she expected him to snap at her again. God, he was an arse. She was torn up enough at the moment without him yelling at her, but she was awfully dense sometimes. Not right now; she seemed enough in her own head, her thumb rubbing at the worn, frayed hole in her jeans.

"Same as Romania," Spike recited in a bored tone, but it wasn't due to their conversation, rather just of the thought of it in general. There were few majestic sights between here and their destination, a whole lot of land to cover and little to see, and the things that _could_ be worth seeing they had to bloody avoid, due to the whole sticking right clear of humans thing. "Trees and people, just less of it. Might have to nick a car for our troubles, lots of roads, cities to stick clear of. Going to spend a hell of a lot time if we have to skirt all the edges of cities without wheels to do it by."

"Steal?" Jade echoed, hesitant. He doubted she had done everything on the goody-good side, she'd run right away from her home and sister, hadn't she? Unless she had been loaded, and plucked all that into her pocket, she must have stolen something from time to time. As for Spike's own moral center, sure, he wasn't big bad evil any more, and he knew, from a twinge or two, that it'd be wrong, stealing a car they didn't own. Not to mention, with all the newfangled tracking devices and alarms, it was bloody harder than it used to be. But there were priorities, and as far as Spike was concerned, they'd just stopped a brutal army that would have started in their neighbour country, so the inhabitants owed him and Jade a favor or two. Mostly Jade. She'd died for them, they could spare some wheels. But she was still a bit too strung up on it, the concept of taking what didn't belong to them, so she continued. "Kind of wrong, isn't it?"

"For the souled, you mean?" Spike drawled, a bit resigned. "For little goodie goods like us?"

"Yeah, the undead un-evil," Jade said with a bit of humour, her eyes twinkling, nearly amused, rather than hesitant. "Too bad for us, then, these constricting souls of ours."

"Easily solved then. Just nip your necklace off a bit, steal a car, slap it back on, immoral disaster averted." As soon as the words had left his lips, Spike knew he had said the wrong thing, and he could have struck himself for the mistake. The smile on Jade's face had evaporated, all humor gone, as she looked suddenly distant and gaunt, immediately turning her gaze from him. What a sodding idiot, he was. Losing her soul must be her worst sodding fear, and he had just dangled it in front of her and laughed at it. Laughed at it, like a bloody git. Too late to take it back, the words hung in the air, and silence filled the shoddy cabin. "Least we do have a bit of spare change," He said, in an awkward, bumbling way, trying to apologize by giving them something else to talk about. "Maybe get a hotel one of these nights—one real secluded one. Give us a bit of change from the slumming."

"That'd be nice," Jade answered in a distant, hollow tone, a few too many minutes after he had spoken for him to be reassured that she was alright.

He was a complete idiot.


	3. Night Six

**NIGHT SIX**

It was nearly a week until they actually had the luxury of a hotel, and Jade could not have been happier that the wait had ended. She didn't know how longer until the next time, neither of them, but she was just content with having an actual roof over their heads, electricity and finally, a shower. It was true that her body didn't smell as much as it would had she still been human, no sweat being the first and foremost divider, but she was still undesirably grungy, and her tangled mess of hair had only gotten worse. They'd gotten more than halfway through Ukraine, which she supposed was an accomplishment, but nearly a week gone and they hadn't even made it to Russia yet didn't make her feel they had gotten that far, at least not quickly enough. It didn't help that they had to go some pretty obscure routes just to avoid civilization. They were near one of the sparse forests, just before the Dneiper or Ny-eeper or something river, and they'd cross it the next night to avoid the roads.

But that was tomorrow, today, they had an actual room. It had been Spike who had found it, a hotel in the form of separate little cabins, mostly for fisherman who wanted to be near the water. But they were dispersed with enough room, and they didn't have to worry about having next door neighbours. Jade had waited as far back as she could while Spike had gone and to the main reception area. She fidgeted with her backpack, filled with some supplies that Spike had gathered from another town, little things that they had wanted or needed. She hadn't taken any of her own things with her, their departure from the temple had been so sudden that they had been building up their supply again as they needed something. They were low on weapons too, but Jade had made a few makeshift stakes from the ample forests they had travelled through, but she had thought, perhaps a bit arrogantly, that she didn't really _need_ the stakes. She could rip off a vampire's head off easily enough, now, although perhaps the stake was easier. And, just in case she slipped, if Spike needed to use it on her…

She hadn't talked to him about it yet. Hadn't talked to him all that much about anything really, just banter here and there, discussion and comments as they skirted around towns, or what Spike needed when he went in to pilfer and pay for something for them. His comment about her whipping off her soul to steal a car had bothered her, though he had looked contrite after, as if he was contemplating how to swallow his own tongue. She hadn't needed to forgive him for the comment, it was just a slip of the tongue to him, it wasn't his fault that she reacted so badly. But that was it, he could joke about it, she couldn't. She could feel it there, the demon, nothing consequential, nothing that influenced her, but the feeling that it was always waiting, watching. Biding its time for its chance. And if it ever got it, she shuddered to think of it. More than just a shudder, it made her feel sick and terror-stricken. It was her worse fear, that she'd become a soulless Slayer-Vampire because she knew, somehow, that she'd be worse than Mandy. Mandy, with all her sick ambition, hadn't actually hurt that many people. She _was_ , it had been her plan to do so, but she had showed the restraint and maybe even the intelligence to keep the Slayers alive, relatively unharmed, until it suited her purpose. There was waiting there, deliberation. Jade felt the demon in her had no such motivation. It would just kill, kill and kill, and she couldn't let that happen.

She wanted to have a fall-back plan, wanted to make sure that even if she did lose her soul, she wouldn't kill anyone. Or at least, that she'd never have to fear it happening again. If she lost her soul, she wanted Spike to make sure they staked her. Just kill her, instead of trying to bring her back. She wanted Spike to promise her, but the way he had been lately, she feared that if she brought it up he'd just snap at her and refuse. He refused to believe that she was beyond help, and he'd snap at her good if he ever thought she was giving it anything less than her best. They were fighters, Spike and her, and he wouldn't take well to the thought that she was thinking of what would happen if she lost. So she had stayed mum on the subject, but she'd have to bring it up some day eventually. Sooner, rather than later. She wanted his word. Wanted his word that she wouldn't become something worse than Mandy.

She heard his good-natured whistling before she saw him, and he broke through the trees, twirling a set of keys around his finger. He still wore his duster, but his torn clothes had been replaced a few days ago, with a set of dark black pants that were loose, but still snug enough around his thighs for Jade to notice. And his shirt, it was even more stretched around his form, a slim-fitting v-neck long sleeved shirt that was a dark green. He had looked effortlessly attractive without even trying to. The clothes that he had gotten for Jade were a little less appealing, though it was mostly due to the fact that looking good for her took more effort than it did for him. She was dressed in a t-shirt with a plaid long-sleeved shirt over it, and black sweats that were loose, yet comfortable enough. She looked like she was camping, while he looked like he could step in to do a model shoot. It was an envious, errant thought, and there were so many more important things to be concerned with, so she pushed the jealousy from her mind.

"Cabin eleven," Spike said with a bit of triumph, his blue eyes gleaming. He was probably as happy as her to not be slumming it for a single day. Speaking of day, it was getting rather close to it. She had only really paid attention to the shifting of night and day cycles when she had started keeping company with Spike, but now she had to be even more attentive. Despite all her 'strength', she was even more pervious to the sun than Spike was, something that irritated her, but she knew it was a resistance that she had to build up, over time. Vampires got stronger the older they got, so she could only imagine what she would be like in a couple hundred years. Hundreds of years. She had never thought that far ahead before. Being a Slayer, she hadn't thought beyond much more than her next fight, waiting to see if it would be the last. Even when she had run away from her watcher, her sister and her family, she hadn't been thinking about further than the 'right now', no future plans. But now she had nothing but future, and it was a bit intimidating. Especially if she had to spend the rest of it being vigilant to the point of paranoia over her soul. She fingered it now, as she often did, a compulsive desire to check that it was there, that it was still there. It was so light that she didn't always feel it against her breastbone, she had to stop and put effort into realising it.

In her thoughts, she hadn't responded to Spike, and his whistling had ceased as he led them silently, to the single cabin. It was such a step up from their previous accommodations, not even a cabin at all, just a single unit room. Jade waited a step down from Spike as he unlocked it, glancing a bit over their shoulder at the sky, always keeping an eye out. She followed Spike in, closing the door behind them. She cast her gaze over the insides, sighting the bathroom first with delight. A shower. That would be so nice, finally, to have a proper wash. She touched her grimy hair, then immediately dropped her hand, regretting it and stifling a face. Her hair was a rat's nest now, there was no doubt about that, but finally, with the shampoo and comb that Spike had procured her, she could finally tame it. She had torn off a piece of her old shirt to tie the mess away from her face, but it was a stop gap measure.

She was so taken by the bathroom, barely noticing for a moment that there were no lights on until Spike flipped the switch, that she took until then to take note of the rest of the room. It was by no means fancy. Spacious, mostly for those who wanted a cabin and a roof over their head while they did some fishing. There was a fridge, a table, a tv, but only one…

"Sorry," Spike said, a bit apologetically. "Double bed rooms were all taken' up. Weekend, you know. Plus, bit more expensive." He had followed her gaze to the lone bed, though it was at least Queen size. "I can, uh take the floor if I nick a blanket." He added casually, but Jade could tell he didn't really want to play the gentleman, since he was just as tired as lying on the dirt as she was, and she said as much.

"It's fine," She said, seeing the relief light up in his blue eyes. "I think you've had enough of roughing it. We can share. Won't toss and turn that much. I sleep like the dead." It was a joke, or at least it tried to be, but Spike's eyes had narrowed slightly, wary, as if he wasn't sure if she was being humorous or not. Jade couldn't blame him for his suspicion. The wrong word from him would throw her into a stupor, and she knew she hadn't been behaviorally consistent lately. Sometimes she felt normal, and other times, she just didn't feel human at all, like she was so far away from what she used to be that she considered herself two different people. Human Jade and Not-Human Jade, and it was a confusing dynamic. For her, and likely for Spike, who never knew which side of her he was going to get. "I'm going to have a shower," She continued, before he had to scrap together a reply. He was going around, making sure that all the windows were covered, no cracks from the outside to be seen, and she did the same with the bathroom window before closing the door behind her.

She laid her backpack on the floor and let her clothes follow, stepping into the shower before the water had even heated up. That was a perk, at least. Being so slim, she had always been rather cold, and jumping into the water before it was warm enough to supply her with some much needed warmth would have been torture, if she had still been human. But she wasn't human, anymore. So she crossed into the shower. It was a long, nearly enough for her to stretch all the way out if she laid flat, but she sat in the corner instead, letting the water rush over her, rubbing at her face and hair. It was nice, gloriously so. The water was a deep grimey color as it swirled into the drain. They'd had their little stream baths when they had managed it, but it wasn't the same as this, the warm rushing of water. She touched her skin. It had been lukewarm, bordering on cold most of the time that they were outside, and she hadn't noticed that much since it didn't bother her, but now she felt warm, almost normal, instead of the very opposite of it.

She wasn't quick in the shower, she had stayed there for a while before she finally dragged herself out. Her skin _was_ a bit shrivelled, like a raisin's, and she didn't know what she had expected, as if there would be no change now that she was a corpse. She stepped over to the counter, habitually wiping the steam from the mirror. And then remembered, as nothing stared back at her that—no reflection. She didn't know why it hit her so hard, but it did. She had felt almost back to her regular self, sitting in that shower, with heat rushing on her and off her, raisin fingers, almost normal, and then this. A sordid reminder of what she was. She looked away, glancing down at her hands and towelled body to remind herself that she still existed. She had never been overly vain, but she had liked one thing about her face, and those were her blue eyes. They were large, and bright, and normally they'd stare back at her, but not now, not any more. She was ashamed to feel a sob rise up in her chest, so she angrily beat it back. Spike was only in the next room, and even with the fan going, she would be humiliated if he could hear. She wouldn't cry over this. She so rarely cried, that the thought of not having a mirror wouldn't pull it from her. She knew that wasn't the only reason, only the tip of the iceberg, but she tried to pin it on that detail, tried to shame herself out of tears. _Oh, big deal. Can't see your reflection. Not a knock-out anyway. Probably should be glad._ The words were harsh, cruel to herself, but they did the trick, making her feel angry at herself rather than sad.

She pulled on her clothes, and then her next task was her hair. She back, slowly, picking at it with her comb, though that quickly turned to nearly pulling it out—and after a few strands did come away with her comb that shouldn't have, she took a deep unneeded breath. She might be stronger, but her scalp wasn't. She ahd to be a bit more careful with her strength, or she'd end up being bald. Though that might be preferable to trying to untangle the horrific mess of her hair. "Christ sakes," She hissed as she hit another snag, over the next half hour swearing repeatedly at her slow progress, until finally, she threw the comb away in a fit of frustration. It was just a fragile, plastic thing, and it snapped as it hit the counter. She looked at it, her anger no less abated, now adding frustration at herself to the mix, and she delved into her backpack for something else that Spike had brought at her heed. Her fingers enclosed around the metal object as she pulled it out with brusque irritation, holding the scissors in her fingers. She had grabbed at them so hastily, not thinking, and there was a disloyal squeak from the metal at her rough handling, and she cursed as she pulled the scissors into view. She had bent them. Great. She cursed.

With something that could have been a sob or a laugh, or some mix of the two, she glared frustratingly at the warped metal, shaking her head. And tears, once again, swarmed at her vision, threatening to spill over. For no good reason. Her emotions were on such a short leash, frustration, anger and distress swirling over her in a encompassing wave. _Take a breath_ , she coached herself, ignoring the sarcastic after-remark, that she was a vampire, and thus didn't need to breathe. But she forced her body to make the action anyway, drawing in the steamy air, thick with warmth and moisture, holding it in her mouth. She could smell the cleaning agents they had used, and the traces of the cabin's previous occupants. And fish. Lots and lots of fish. She'd never liked fish that much—save for sushi—before she was turned, and seeing as the little aquatics didn't carry that much blood, she wasn't about to change her preferences. The unnecessary breath calmed her, for at least a moment, until she turned her mind to the next task.

Bending those scissors back into a useable shape.

"Son of a bitch. Piece of shi—" She muttered, after a good ten minutes. She had to be so, so damn careful, lest she didn't just wrest it further away from its original shape, and then the strength she used wasn't enough to bend it, and then she added _more_ , and again, just making it worse. And all she had wanted to do was brush her hair, then cut it, and now she had to perform something that was akin to complicated metal surgery just to use the damn thing. It was unbelievably frustrating, and she swore again, finally deciding to just leave it as it was, a squeaky, off-kilter scrape, where it did the job but not as smoothly, when there was a knock at the door. "Shitty, piece," Jade had been muttering under her breath when she yelled a "Come in," at the door, and it swung open. Spike looked down at her, his face a mask of wariness, and she figured he had heard her swearing for however long it had been—half hour, or more? She hoped she hadn't woken him, though with her annoyingly perceptive vamp-vision, she could see that his hair was unmussed, hair unrumpled, and the tv was going on in the background, so he had likely just been waiting.

"Oh, sorry. I've been taking up the bathroom," She realised belatedly. She probably wasn't the only one that wanted a shower. Spike had complained less about that than the lack of beds, but that didn't mean he wasn't also looking forward to getting the grunge off of him. She was about to apologize for the monopolized hot water, but it had been long enough that the water tank probably refilled with hot water by now. But Spike didn't seem to be bothered by that, still looking down at her incredulously.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" He asked. She looked down at her self. Her clothes had been pulled on haphazardly, but thankfully she was covered—didn't need Spike snapping at her for that again, but there were several clumps of hair around her, from when she had pulled out the tangles and when she had cut pieces to test the mangled scissors. She sighed, feeling like a mess. And she was a mess, and she had tried to keep herself dignified and kept together in front of Spike, but the truth was that she had been laying on the tiled bathroom floor for nearly an hour, nearly put to sobs by the root of the problem—possible pun intended—her annoying hair.

"I just wanted to—that is," Jade didn't know how to explain without sounding stupid, so there was no point in trying to hide the obvious. "My hair. It's a pain. Tried to comb it, but it was more trouble than its worth. And while we're travelling, I should just have it shorter anyway. Better for battle, too. So I tried to cut it, but I bent the scissors—" She displayed the sad, twisted things in her hand, but before she could continue, Spike had plucked them out of her hands, not quite holding back his disbelieving sigh.

"Get off the bloody floor," He chided her, a bit brusquely, and she nodded, as if she was a child who had just finished her time out, looking at the mess she left around her, bits of hair that floated to the floor. She had to clean that up. Dirty, and probably not all that appealing, but before she could bend to pick it up, he had grasped her arm, a strong hold that didn't hurt her, as he ungently herded her towards the door. "Just go sit on the bed for a 'sec or something, try not to break anything." He sounded a mix of irritation and exasperation, and she nodded so she wouldn't have to look at him, stepping past him and into the larger room. She sat on the bed, as he had told her too, because there wasn't much else in the way of comfortable furniture, nothing but a fold-up chair in front of the makeshift table, and she sat there, feeling more than a little pathetic.

Spike came back out of the bathroom a couple minutes later, holding a towel and the scissors. "Scoot onto the floor," He ordered her, to her disbelief as he crossed to the bed, sitting on the edge of it while she monopolized the middle. She gaped at him.

"What, what are you doing?" She asked with a peal of surprise in her tone. He looked back at her, his expression decidedly detached, lips in a straight line, though his dark brow was furrowed, his face emotionless with a hint of chagrin.

"Cutting your hair, you git. What does it look like? Now bloody scoot." Somewhat rife with shock, she shook her head to clear it and then, obediently, if not meekly, did as he said, thumping to the floor. She felt the bed shift behind her, and then two legs draped down on each side of her—Spike's legs, on either side of her. She was grateful that she was turned away from him, because even with her lacking of a blush, she had no doubt that he would have been able to tell that she was flustered and a bit embarrassed. And she could barely get it through her head, that Spike, _Spike_ , of all people, was about to cut her hair, a domesticated act she never would have expected from him.

"Now," He began gruffly, from behind her. "How short do you want it?"

What a mess, she was. She'd seemed pleased enough, a thankful little smile on her lips when they had first walked into the cabin—an actual, decent enough place to shield them from the sun's death rays for a day. Sure, been some of their money used on it, a sizeable enough swath, but it had been worth it. Spike had slummed enough through his century and a half—well at least the after-death part. Never much lived in squalour when he had been human, though those days weren't as sharp, or particularly interesting as his unlife days were, he recalled being wealthy, a humble estate, servants. He also recalled giving up his title to spend his unlife with Dru, not before most of the inhabitants of his previous house had been slaughtered, including his mum. As it was, the sewers—mine shafts, that he'd bunked in with the Whirwind crew, Angel, his catty lover Darla, and of course, Dru. That had been mostly due to Spike's explosive habit of drawing attention from the brawls he loved to engage in. Had left the vampires fleeing from both the light and the angry mob that followed.

But perhaps he'd been a bit spoiled over his last years, settling more often in one place, not always the most nifty of roofs over his head, but a solid enough one. It'd been awhile since he'd travelled like this, and the soul in 'im kept it from being a bit more comfortable. How wrong would it be to bare his fangs a little, get a discount? But no, his damn morals had him handing over bills to pay the full price, which was a damn shame, but he'd deal with it for now, and not complain overly much. And it had been worth it, to see the gratitude on Jade's face. She'd been slumming it too, and not a word of complaint. Not that many words at all, but her blue eyes had lit when they had spied the shower. With the gusto of a teenager girl, she had bounced on rights to it, and Spike had barely spared her an eyebrow raise as she had slipped into it and disappeared. Let her enjoy it, for a minute. He had sank down onto the bed, cursing himself once more for not being able to find a room with two beds. Be a bit more expensive, but likely would have been worth it. Sleeping beside Jade wasn't going to help matters, the whole keeping her at arm's length bit, and she was so oblivious to it.

She'd been in the bathroom for a while—women—and Spike was still awake. The sun had been up for a while now, but he was flipping through the channels. He'd been damn pleased to hear that they had a telly with cable, though as he flipped through the channels he was aghast to learn that that most of them were in Ukrainian or some damn fishing show. Finally he landed on a soap, some British one that had him chuckling when he heard commotion from the bathroom. It had been after the water had turned off, long after, with the sounds of some clattering. He rose up, with just the barest of twinges—his wounds had finally healed, except for his ribs, which still gave him a painful ache from time to time if he wasn't careful enough, drawing towards the closed bathroom door. He'd been hearing her muttered curses—and she wasn't one for the swearing. Sure, a couple times, but usually she kept her frustration all bottled up, so much that he couldn't even tell it was there. But now she had been muttering and swearing, and since he didn't know what the bloody hell she was doing, he'd marched up to the door and knocked emphatically. She didn't hesitate, stopping mid-curse to invite him in.

And there she was, sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor, her hair still damp and dripping. She had barely dried it. Her skin had a gleaming shine to it, pale, and still flushed from the water, a redness to it that broke her vampire's alabaster complexion, making her look like her normal human self again. Her face was fresh and clear of make-up, as it normally was. Her eyes were a bright blue in the bathroom's white light, the bright color he had almost missed viewing since he only now saw her eyes in the dark. But she was a right mess still, a glistening in her eyes that accompanied the blue, looking defeated as well as frustrated. At least she was clothed, he'd have a word with her if she had let him barge in here without a strip of clothing on. And normally, he wouldn't be so posh about the notion, except that it was Jade, and he didn't need any more bloody distracting thoughts. He'd sighed and sent her out of the bathroom, which had turned from bliss to a place of misery for her, and shaking his head, he'd haphazardly swept the stray hairs to a corner of the bathroom floor, grabbed a towel and brandished the scissors.

And she'd been so surprised, as if he was some kind of imposter, and he felt like shaking her. It was the only logical thing to do. She'd look at her reflection, trying to cut her own hair, and be a sob about it when she remembered that she didn't have one. She'd end up with some hack job, which he'd have to fix anyway, so it was better to calm the little misfit and just do it himself. He knew she was holding her emotions back, as she usually did, but soon it'd reach a boiling point, and if he could deflate that before it happened—or avoid it completely, he'd be a happier man. Well, vampire. Didn't quite think he matched the description of being a man, even with his soul. But Jade, she didn't know how to be anything but human, with no active demon to tarnish her, except what she was learning on her own, and Spike was sure it was a frustrating thing, trying to balance the two, but he was still envious of her. Her soul hadn't had to come back and learn that her body had committed over a century of atrocity. She was lucky, luckier than Angel and him, and she'd realised that someday. With some gratitude, he hoped.

"Here," Jade said in a quiet voice, as she stilled before him. Her shoulder had brushed the inside of his knee, but after that she had refrained from fidgeting, probably knowing he'd snap at her good if she wouldn't hold still. She gestured, with a pale finger, how far she wanted it cut, just at her collarbones.

"Easy 'enough," Spike said casually, keeping his tone a little less brusque so that she could relax, because while she was still, she was holding herself like a rigid piece of stone, each muscle tensed. He'd taken an unnecessary breath, inhaling the scent of her strawberry flavored shampoo. He had been the one who had bought it, since she hadn't been overly instructive or specific, and he knew that she preferred the fruity scents. He hadn't taken to think how it would smell on her, enticing and somewhat intoxicating, and if he was smarter, he would have gotten some darker, musky, unappealing scent, something that didn't make him breathe in her damnably fragrant hair.

He held the curls in his hand, the slightly damp, but drying mess of tangles. He could see how she had gotten frustrated, since knots were rife in her hair, a side-effect of travelling through the forests and avoiding civilization, and now she wanted to cut it off. Fine by him if that's what she wanted, but he was no bloody hairdresser, and his friends—were they friends, or just a fateful gang that he hadn't been able to escape—would no doubt tease him about it incessantly, adding it to the 'Spike's not even scary any more' category. Didn't want that. Spike was no softie.

Yet, here he was, offering to cut Jade's hair just to appease the sniffling thing. Reminded him a bit of Dru at the moment, minus the crazy babbling—Jade was silent—for Spike had helped Dru with her grooming—whatever she had needed, really, for the better part of a century. They'd been separated, but he had always found her again eventually. Now, he hadn't seen her in nearly five years, and didn't know when he would again. It was better that way. He'd never be what she wanted again, and he didn't love her devotedly as he once had. Couldn't stand for her whims of violence and insanity. He'd try to make her something she never had been, never could be, sane. He'd often wondered if that was what kept her from loving him truly, and only him, instead of always being drawn back to her sadistic sire. That if Angelus hadn't broken her as he had, Drusilla might have actually loved Spike the way he loved her. He'd thought about that a lot, although less as the years went on. He wondered what would happen if he ever did see her again. Would his soul bid him to kill her—since she was an unhinged murderer, or would he let her go? He didn't know.

"Thank you," Jade said after a moment, as the scissors made a slightly squeaky 'shink', a piece of her long hair falling onto the towel. Her quiet voice had broken into his musings; she'd been so silent and so still that he had forgotten for a moment she was there.

"Hold this," He said curtly, his fingers brushing hers as he twisted a portion of her hair into her hands. He felt her skin, warm, though the heat was gradually fading, as she obediently accepted it, pulling it out of his way. The scissors made another tortured cut, grating a bit since she had half-mauled the damn things, but the cut was clean enough, another lock falling from her head. "Be a bit hard without a mirror," He continued, not wanting her thanks, not wanting her to speak of it again, good ol' Spike the softie, so he added, "But you tell anyone about this—"

"You'll skewer me with the scissors," Her voice held the slightest hint of amusement, but he didn't take aversion to it. Amusement, hell, a smile, even if it was at his antics, was better than her divvies into mental abstraction. "Though they'd probably just break," she added.

"Can't bend them anymore," Spike retorted saucily. "You've maimed the bloody hell out of these things."

She was silent for a second, so he'd thought he'd hurt her feelings _again_ , until she let out a cheeky, "Woops," decidedly lighthearted.

She was quiet for a while after that, as the scissors continued to snip through her hair, pieces falling, which she dutifully caught, wrapping up the loose hair to keep it from getting a mess. After a while, her movements slowed, and she leaned off to one side, her cheek brushing his knee. He had just cut the last piece, and though it was no masterpiece, it was the length she wanted, and it was mostly straight, likely more than she could have managed her own self. He had been running his fingers through it to rid the last of the tangles, noting a contented sigh and Jade's relaxed form.

"You fallin' asleep?" He asked, a bit incredulous.

"Mhm," Came her half-mumbled reply, obviously drowsy. "Feels nice."

"Had a bit of practice," He muttered, smoothing the last of her much shorter curls, which had completely dried, both in the time and because it was no longer so bloody long. "Dru had me do her hair a couple times." He said it casually, not even meaning to mention anything.

"Oh?" Jade replied, her tone less sleepy, perked up with interest. "That was your…"

"Sire," Spike confirmed. "Yeah. Relaxed her, having me to do it for her. Get a bit mussed if she tried doing it herself. She get distracted with the stars or something or other, leave it half done. And just after she had one of her fits, be a nice way to calm her down." That, and a little child to eat, but Spike refrained from mentioning that part.

"Fits?" Jade asked, a yawn breaking her jaw as she sat up from where she had leaned into his knee, sitting straighter now.

"Yeah. Bit barmy, she was. You think Dana was bad? Dru's worse. Bug-shagging crazy. Loved her for it," He added with a bit of affection in his tone. Being with Dru hadn't been all bad. Been better when it had just been the two of them, no Angelus to manipulate her twisted mind and break her heart further.

"You were with her a long time, right?"

"Better part of a century." Some time apart, always finding her again. "Until she told me I was all caught up in Buffy. Called her barmy for that, stormed off. 'Course, she was right in the end."

Jade tilted her head back onto his knee, this time to angle her head up to look at him. She seemed serene, curious rather than judgemental. "I remember her, a bit," Jade confessed, to Spike's raised eyebrow. "From Tara, Jenny. Not so much from Anya. Little bit from Buffy's mom, even. When they came to visit, could sift through their memories a little bit. Like watching a really fragmented slideshow."

"Just parts of their memory?" Spike asked, curious himself. Jade nodded, a distant look to her eyes, and then a half-tilted smile.

"I remember you asking for little marshmallows in your hot chocolate that Buffy's mom made for you," She said with a slight tease in her blue eyes. "After Dru left."

"Alright," Spike said gruffly. "Sharing time's over." He said, ignoring her playful pout. He didn't need to learn just how many sodding embarrassing memories Jade had gleaned of him, particularly any involving his rather booze-filled antics following Dru breaking it off with him. "Get some kip. Day's half over, and you're falling asleep."

She rose, gracefully and fluidly, stopping another yawn. "As you wish," She agreed dreamily, clutching her cut off hair in her hand, depositing it in the garbage. As she crossed back to the bed, she touched the shorter ends of her hair, another pleased smile on her lips. She didn't say anything else after that, crawling underneath the covers with one more half-lidded glance at him before sinking her head into the pillow, falling quickly asleep. He observed her for a moment, as he had when she had been dying, and he'd be stuck to her side to keep her from getting worse. She didn't move now, as still and as unmoving as a corpse. Yet, even without the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders, something to _watch_ , he still found his eyes on her for a few long moments, before he stripped off his shirt and crawled under the covers to the other side of the bed, as far to the side as he could manage. With one more long look at her still form, he closed his eyes to sleep.


	4. Night Thirteen

**NIGHT THIRTEEN**

They'd stolen a car.

He'd insisted on it, morals be damned. There was less forests in Russia, more long stretches of farm land, not as many as uninhabited forests. They had a hell of a way to go, and walking was more trouble than it was worth. And it'd be easier, probably quicker, if they could just speed along the roads rather than walking around every damn town. And for such a large stretch of land, but not an overwhelming population compared to the rest of sodding Europe, seemed to Spike that there should be a lot more empty spaces, everything was spread out. Bloody definition of the whole country, spread out. He'd been to Russia before, to St. Petersburg with Angelus, Dru and Darla, to see a play—and eat plenty of the crowd, but they'd taken a train back then. And sod all, they didn't have the cash to rent a train car all to themselves for the entire bloody length of Russia. Plus, still wouldn't keep Jade away from the humans, because they'd still be close, just a glass door away. Well, they still had time, just over two weeks left, and over half of Russia to travel. They'd skirted close to Kazakhstan, but since he wanted to keep the border hopping to a minimum, they hadn't gone through. Wouldn't be much quicker anyway, he had figured. But the car, that would shave some time off. Jade had been hesitant, but Spike had pulled a complaint about his still healing leg, and her resistance had melted immediately.

She'd even been the one to pick it out, a red pick-up truck that had lived through more of the eighties than Jade did, but she'd pointed out that it likely didn't have any electronic tracking hullabaloo—Spike hadn't exactly kept on the changing technology in his years as a vampire, he was still rather old-fashioned when it came to that. The industrial revolution, yes, but the rate of tracking this and tracking that and satellites in the sky, well he hadn't paid much attention to it when he had been tearing at throats, and as it was now, he was a bit left behind by it all. It had been mostly forgotten, the truck, so he'd been convinced that it wouldn't start, or likely break on them in a couple miles, but they hadn't even needed to hotwire it, as the keys had been fortunately stuffed behind the driver's mirror, something Jade had thought to check, but Spike hadn't. Not like he had ever been one to steal a car, at least not with the driver dead in his arms, and the keys dripping with fresh blood. He missed his DeSoto, that beautiful 1959 car of his, which was a sodding work of art, unlike this clumsy thing that seemed to reject the very notion of a clutch, with jerky transitions between gears, but it had been free, and with enough gas to make it to the next station to be filled up, and they had driven it for the last four days.

They'd blacked out most of the windows, and the truck's back cap had tinted windows as well, so Spike could drive while Jade slept during the sunshine. He wouldn't let her in the front, not even with the shaded windows, since as a fledgling, even a past Slayer one, she was particularly susceptible to all vampire's weaknesses, the sun being the most. Spike had built up bit of a resistance, due to his age and his pain tolerance, but he wasn't taking any chances with Jade. She needed enough blood as it was, to need even more to heal from the sun was just asking for trouble.

They'd made a lot more progress, with Spike driving during as much as he could during the day—the fortunate thing about fall in Russia is that clouds were a numerous thing, so even with the space allowed on his windshield, he wasn't overly looking into direct sunlight all that often, and Jade would drive most of the night so Spike could get some kip. Still had to stop and hunt every so often—with it being far often than he liked. Jade became hungry far too quickly, and though he suspected that she'd stay stoically quiet about her hunger if it didn't endanger her control. As it was, she had had few close calls—stray hikers, and hitchhikers when they were on the road, but Spike's senses were more acute—and perhaps Jade had chosen to ignore her own nose so that she would not smell it herself—and he had guided her away each time. He couldn't always play the protector, but he wouldn't rush her. Rushing her could end in blood, and he wouldn't take that chance, not with her.

The road was long, and dark, and it was getting colder the further they headed up into Russia—with the edge of the seasons as well. And it wasn't the most virile of sceneries, with no snow on the ground, but not much in the way of trees or entrancing shrubbery either, and so after Spike had woken from his nap, he had stared, slightly bored, out into the dark. It was unnatural for him, going this long without some healthy violence. After he had regained his soul, his need for it had dulled some, as well as his bloody flair for it, lost for a while as he struggle to recount what it meant to be a man. But Buffy had needed a fighter, not a scholar, and it was all in well, for in battle he thrived, felt glee down into his bones and blood with every swipe. Still, he wasn't as unmoveable in the face of death as he had been without his soul—and truly he might have been the best fighter then, because he didn't care if he lived or died—in a manner of speaking, since he was already dead—it was just about the rush, the violence. Now, he did care. Couldn't go blindly charging off. As Buffy had told him again, and again, he was a strong fighter—one of her best, though if she had just told him that to keep him around or if she actually meant it, it was a debateable thought. Wouldn't put it past her. She could be manipulative if she had to be. Headstrong, stubborn, and steadfast willing to protect her own, Buffy was a hell of a handful.

Yet he did miss her. Hadn't gotten a proper goodbye, but had he ever, with Buffy? Burning hands united as she whispered words she hadn't meant at the time—and still hadn't confirmed in one way or another, it was a hasty farewell as he burst into flame. Not that that had lasted very long. Nineteen bloody days, that was all the rest his tattered soul had gotten before he had been pulled into the fight again, as a bloody ghost. Spike was certainly not unhappy that _those_ days were over, although it had been a bit fun walking through walls, without Angel the bloody poof to stop him. Still, if he had been a ghost all this time, he would have gone mad. Wouldn't be a fit babysitter for Jade, that was sure, though as he looked over at her, he felt a bit of guilt at his thought. They were driving in silence, because the radio stations were crappy and mostly in Russian, except for one old rock station that had quit on them a bit after sunset. She had one hand on the wheel, her other hand pressed against the door, her knuckles pressed into her forehead as she leaned into her hand. She hadn't noticed him wake, as he had huddled in the front seat, covered in his duster. He hadn't wanted to jump in the back, like she did when she slept, as it was a bit of pain, and he couldn't sleep for more than a couple hours at a time anyway.

She was humming, and then singing softly to herself. Chit couldn't hold a tune, but her voice was nice enough, dulcet and higher than her speaking voice, more feminine than he would have expected. She didn't sing the songs the right way, adding inflections that sounded a bit better with her voice, but didn't follow the normal tune—probably since she was tone deaf, as that was what it seemed like. Still, it was somehow relaxing, and he watched her with eyes half-lidded until he got a wicked itch in his neck and had to scratch it. The movement drew her attention, and she stopped immediately, casting a glance in his direction with a soft smile. They hadn't had a hotel since nearly a week ago, since they could sleep in the truck, or wash in the river, and he knew that she had appreciated it, but she hadn't asked for it again, knowing that their cash supply was dwindling. Wasn't much there to begin with, sod it all, should have asked Angel for some pocket lining. Not that he was the big cash-making CEO after Wolfram & Hart had discovered their betrayal, and Angel and his little gang had gone around to the rest of the branches trying to stop the fire that spread beyond their tries to snuff it. And the pawns kept changing. Spike had fought with them for a while before he had returned to Buffy, Gunn had added Gwen into the mix, Wesley had died in LA, Lorne had fled without so much as a foreword, and the dark Slayer Faith had joined the fight. Would probably be one that would last a while, some evil always cropping up after the last one was slain.

Never ending fights seemed to be Spike's lot in life. And apparently, so was guarding Slayers.

He still considered Jade a slayer. She hadn't shaken that off, even if she had always been a bit of an oddity from the beginning. Wasn't nearly arrogant enough, although the martyr-dom, that was to the letter. She'd waltzed into Mandy's little hold waiting and expecting to die, but she had made sure that she could still do something with it. And she had, she had saved them all, and yet Spike still suspected that when she did head back to the Slayers—they would eventually, the Slayers wouldn't be falling over their selves to thank her. In fact, they'd probably ostracize her even more than before. She was a vampire, after all. It was in Slayers' very nature to distrust and suspect them. Even Spike, who had never been without a soul before them, he'd never gotten buddy-buddy with them, especially the new ones. They were always trailing their eyes on him—not just because he was a sexy piece of muscle—but as if they were scoping out a target for their crossbow. It had never bothered him, they could sod off with their opinions, he gave no cares about it, but he knew it'd hit a little harder with Jade.

She wanted to be helpful, she was like a pleasing little puppy. He knew how uncomfortable she was with this whole trip, thinking she was a burden, a bother, a draining of resources. Spike knew better, knew she was the kind of person to give it back tenfold. That was how he knew that they'd head back to the Slayers eventually. She had new power, new strength, and she wouldn't let it waste away, she'd want to help. So that was the point of this little exercise, make sure she _could_ help the way she wanted to. As long as it took.

Spike just hoped he wouldn't reach two hundred years before it did.

* * *

Spike was glancing at her from underneath his duster, curled up like a graceful cat, spread out in the truck's front seat, his feet had pressed into her thigh for a couple hours. She hadn't minded. One thing she had noticed with her nose's extra acuity, is that corpses didn't smell as much as she thought they would. Well, she and Spike weren't exactly corpses. They still had blood in them, they weren't all dried up and shriveled, and they didn't decay. And no body odor, not really. They did smell a little, lack of showers and proper washes, but no sweating, no feet smell, at least that was a bonus. And she was trying to find the bonuses, like how easy it was to navigate at night in the truck, even with half the dashboard covered and no moon. She could see the features of the road clearly, although she could see it even more so if she vamped.

But she couldn't bring herself to. She only did when she fed, because she had to. She hated bringing it out for any other reason, even if it didn't affect her, not really. But she just didn't want Spike to see her face, which was a stupid thought. She had found vampire-faces appropriately repulsing—except for Spike's. Somehow, the lack of eyebrow but full run of his scar, his golden eyes shining out instead of blue ones, he was still irrevocably handsome, as if there was no way to make him look anything but unattractive. But her, she hadn't seen her vampire face and didn't want to. She found ugly whenever it overtook her, an unnatural, disgusting thing. She didn't know why she had never been as repulsed by Spike being a vampire as she was being one. Perhaps it was because she had been a Slayer. Every one of her senses had told her how she failed, that she became what she was supposed to hunt and kill and protect against. Or maybe it was just her. Her own self-confidence levels, whatever it was, she kept her human face on, even if she had to squint a little to see some further away objects.

"Did you sleep well?" She found her voice was in a near whisper, since it was nighttime, and she should be quiet, although it was day to her. She noticed an oncoming light, another car passing by. She stiffened, as she normally did, checking to make sure the window was all the way up, and held an unneeded breath so she wouldn't smell anything, for even a trace of human would make her stomach rumble and her mouth water. It was disgusting, and she hated herself for it, and though Spike tried hard to keep the temptation as low as possible—lots and lots of blood, and as much distance as possible, she could still feel the urges, as muted as they were, they were still there, and was disgusted by them. She was terrified she would lose her control, that she'd move without meaning to, and she was so quick, it would be so easy to hunt a human, to drain them of blood and feel full.

Except for Spike. He wouldn't let her, and she knew it. It reassured her, her safety net. She was beyond thankful that he hadn't let her do this alone, because she didn't know if she could have held out so long. But with him, it seemed possible, and she'd eventually learn, he had told her, to control her bloodlust. Still, it seemed easier for him. He'd hinted that Angel had had a bit more trouble with it, years and years until he mastered it, which scared and intrigued Jade. She should have asked the vampire for advice while he was there, but then what advice could he have given that they weren't already doing? Stay clear, little bit at a time. She hadn't been thinking of much when it had been the three of them in that clearing, the three souled vampires in existence, all together, a triumvirate of—what? Rebels? Heroes? Misfits? They acted against their very nature, since their human nature had been replaced by that of the demon and they sought to reclaim it. It should have been easiest for Jade. She hadn't been without her human self for very long, but that didn't mean it wasn't gone. She hadn't felt like she had kept onto a whole piece of herself, but a couple of loose shards she tried to wrap together.

Ah. Dark thoughts for a long, quiet road. She was glad Spike was awake, hoping he could distract her from her own mind.

"Bit cramped," Spike mumbled back, his jaw cracking in a yawn. He blinked, then, looking decidedly adorable, but Jade would never tell him, because she figured he'd never stop scowling again. "As per usual." He leaned back against the door, languid and relaxed, but somehow never vulnerable. He could go from a statue to a blur in a moment, should he want to, with an ability to look intimidating when his expression was at rest. The Slayer of Slayers indeed, he'd never be harmless.

She gave a wry chuckle under her breath and shook her head.

"What's got you giggling like a school-girl?" Spike asked placidly, though he was over-exaggerating. She glanced at him, shrugging a shoulder.

"Nothing; just a stray thought." At the rising of his scarred eyebrow, she elaborated. "Just, if you're the Slayer of Slayers, I was thinking that I guess I'm the Slayer-Vampire Slayer of Slayer-Vampire Slayers." She said it choppily—was there a way to say that sentence smoothly? She hadn't said it with any trace of self-importance, and he understood she hadn't spoken to brag, a slightly introspective look crossing his graceful features, and then, a bit of a smirk toying with his lip.

"Bit of a mouthful. Mine had a nice ring to it," He used the word _had_ , as if he no longer felt the title suited him. But he hadn't seemed guilty she had brought it up—but he wasn't boasting about it either. "That Mandy bint gave it a nickname, didn't she?"

"Slampire," Jade and Spike spoke at the same time, with Spike shaking his head and Jade rolling her eyes. She thought on it for a second. It did have a nice ring to it, not so many syllables, but the fact that Mandy had concocted it convinced her that it was lacking in style. The same reflective look on Spike's face told Jade that he was thinking the same thing.

"Bloody awful name for it," Spike threw out.

"Terrible," Jade agreed with a small, agreeing smile. Slayer-Vampire it was. "Don't suppose you have a better name for it?"

He blinked, indignant. "I _could_ ," He said with a hint of affront, which only proved to Jade that he had no idea, at least not one that could trump Mandy's attempt. "Better things to do than sitting around brainstorming," He added, defensively, to Jade's disbelieving snort.

"All you do is make up nicknames," She argued good-naturedly, listing off a few to prove her point. "Girl wonder. Slayer. Dorothy. Bloody Mary," She ticked them off with her free hand. "And that's just me."

It was Spike's turn to roll his eyes. "I'm not going to name your species for you, luv. Take all the hyphenated fun out of it."

Over the next hour, though, they did throw stray names into the air. 'Super Vampler' was Jade's favorite and arguably the most ridiculous, but she found herself laughing at the assorted names, the fun in brainstorming it, rather than finding one. Spike had offered 'Vampette', to go along with the Slayers that he called Slayerettes, but Jade had mentioned it better suited Spike and Angel, and Spike had let out a huff that meant to cajole as anger but didn't quite hit the mark, more just a gentle disagreement. Still, it was easy, the banter with him, and it was nearly fun.

He had yet to sit up, although at one point, he straightened out his bent legs, effectively kicking Jade in the behind as he slid between her and the truck's seat—likely due to the fact that she had laughed a little too long at one of his suggestions, and she let out a disgruntled "Hey!" As her softer, cushioned seat was replaced by his spindly ankles and surprisingly bony feet. At least he had kicked off his shoes at some point, but the feet weren't staying there. Jade gave him a cold glower that apparently didn't intimidate him in the least, as he looked back smugly, vying and failing for the innocent look.

"Gotta stretch my legs out a bit," He said smartly, blinking up at her with his large blue eyes, as if he could assume the façade of guiltlessness. "Broken leg, you know."

"Thought that was healed," She returned in a no-nonsense, not-falling-for-Spike's-bullshit tone. Still, she could probably remove his feet if she tried, though she used the excuse of paying attention to the road not to. It was a bit uncomfortable, but Spike was almost…playful, goading her with that stare of his, and she was more keen to smile at him, having to bite the inside of her cheek not to do so, than she was to force his feet away. "And you're bony."

He looked affronted. "Muscular, luv."

"Well your feet sure aren't."

He pouted, sticking out his bottom lip as if he was hurt by her words. Lip slightly quivering, the lines of his cheekbones, angled and prominent, well Jade couldn't quite look away. That was, until there was the sound of a screeching, and a heavy thump, and Spike let out a holler, "Watch the bloody road!"

Glad to the ends of the earth that she couldn't blush, she was startled out of her reverie, turning back towards the road, where they had nearly slumped off the side down a rare hill and into spindly trees. She righted them without incident, forcing herself to glare ahead for the next while, and Spike quietly retrieved his feet, keeping them back to himself, but he didn't admonish her further, or even tease her, but she had the feeling he was silently laughing at her, due to her over-devotion after that, to staring out the road and anywhere but at Spike.

What an ass.


	5. Night Twenty

**NIGHT TWENTY**

They'd gone so long without incident, Jade was beginning to hope that there wouldn't be one. As it was, she would be wrong to think so.

Very wrong.

It was time for their nightly hunting trips—nightly, for though Spike could last a bit longer, Jade couldn't, but they'd ran into one of Russia's abundant forests, and she had been determined to drink her fill, keep the cravings from worming up into her belly.

As it was, they weren't the only creatures who had decided that the forest was a good place to hunt. Unlike Jade and Spike, however, their target wasn't the wildlife.

Halfway through the hunt, Spike and Jade had discovered a handful of huts strewn in the forest's deeper recesses. Jade had wiped fresh blood from her face, fresh from the elk they had caught and shared, and while Jade could still eat more, she was temporarily satiated. She had been surprised to learn that tigers frequented Russia—she had mostly thought of deer and bears in the country's vast land, but due to tiger's increasing rarity, she had gone for the more common elk. They had buried it, moving through a different path in the forest on their ambling way back to their truck, keeping an eye out for a lone wolf to top them up when Spike had gone suddenly and completely still, his fingers wrapping around Jade's arm as he forced her to stop.

"What is it?" She asked in a barest whisper.

"Don't you hear that?" He answered in a gruff, careful tone. She closed her eyes, seeking out with her ears. She had learned, a bit by necessity, how to tune certain things out, or the sound of ticking clocks and all the little things that had gone previously unmentioned by her would drive her crazy. But now, she focused her hearing as well as she could, relying on the acuity that she knew could be there. And then, there. The shrill, faint sound of screaming. She tensed, immediately, copying Spike's stiff gesture. She hadn't expected the forest to be as populated as it was, and that population was in danger.

If her heart still beat, it would have been thumping wildly in her chest. She wanted to go help them, needed to go help them. That was her duty as a Slayer, whatever it was that caused the shriek to rise up again, shrill and saturated with fear. Whether it be against vampires, demons or damned werewolves, she had to go help. But she wasn't ready. She knew that. Even with the taste of elk blood still slipping down her throat, her nearly-full belly, it wasn't enough. Especially not if they were hurt, the inhabitants of the forest, how could she resist then? She curled her hands into her fists, and found Spike was looking at her. His expression was unreadable, but she knew he was thinking the same thoughts that she was.

"You stay here," He said, as she expected. He wasn't willing to risk her, not yet, or more likely, whoever it was that needed their help. _Their_ help. Not just Spike's. But she was frozen. She could just put them in more danger. This was Spike. Likely whatever it was, he could handle that. He'd be pissed if he thought that she deemed herself his protector. Probably would just cause him to seek out danger even more. She knew patronizing him would just antagonize him, but she was worried, not just for the people, but for him as well. She didn't want to stand here and do nothing. "Don't breathe," He was continuing to coach her, the fledgling vampire that needed a damn escort herself, something to keep her from the rampage, and it was frustratingly wrong. Not for the first time, she missed being human with a deep, unending ache. If she was human, there would be no hesitation, no doubt. Run face first into danger with Spike and don't look back. But that wasn't an option any more. "Don't even bloody move until I get back." He didn't say it with a harsh timbre, but it was a warning. He was waiting for her acknowledgement, since she hadn't given it to him.

And she couldn't waste any more time in silence. That'd be wrong too, since she wouldn't change his mind, and likely shouldn't. _Just let him handle this one_ , her more reasonable voice tried to tell her, but it was like eating nails. The shrill shriek sounded one more time, and she shook away her self-pity. "I won't," She promised him, wishing she didn't have to. He nodded, releasing her arm, but before he could disappear into the darkness, she snagged out her hand, clutching his arm as he had done to hers. He glanced at it a bit pointedly, no doubt conjuring a more scathing remark due to her expected stubbornness, but instead she gave his arm a light, encouraging squeeze.

"Be careful," She urged him, and he glanced back with her with empathy, blue eyes gazing back at her with understanding. Then, with a curt, quick nod, he pulled himself out of her grasp and disappeared into the darkness, leaving her alone as her eyes sighted on his still uneven gait.

* * *

He crept towards the cottages, a string of huts, some a lot older than others, sparse kilometers between them. The huts looked like they had been passed by for a generation, not exactly the effigy of modern comfort, small, modest homes that Spike slid past without stopping—like he could gain entrance into them anyway. He tried not to think of Jade, burning holes in his back as he eventually slipped from her view, hopefully leaving her a safe distance away. It was a gamble, but he couldn't take her close by if he could help it, so he could only hope that she avoided incident on her own. What a stretch, that woman's knack for collecting trouble was nearly as bloody impressive as Spike's. But he couldn't think on her right now, it was a damning distraction he didn't need. Had to investigate quickly and quietly, had to find them first.

Easy enough.

He followed the scent of blood, that iron, harsh tang that invaded the air and enticed his taste buds. Like the predator he used to be, Spike followed along the path it led him on. A couple of houses then, clumped together, more impressive looking—though not by much. Likely a residential area of a village, spread out through the forest, Spike stepped closer. The screams, though less often, were louder, no longer from the high, wince-worthy screech of a woman's voice, but more terrified, shrill wails from children. Spike narrowed his eyes, crunching through the underlying bracken forest floor—and, as he just managed to duck past it, a dead body pressed face-down to the ground, fresh blood still dripping onto the crisp leaves. Spike didn't need to see the marks on the corpse's neck to know what he had figured a couple kilometers back—vampire attack. Seemed like this was a good ol' killing spree.

A couple years ago, Spike might have been jealous, wanting to join in, certainly wanting to find his own fight to be had, but now Spike could only shake his head in revulsion, reaching for the branch of a tree and snapping it off in his hand, a make-shift stake. He couldn't help the fallen, but he could certainly find a fight regardless. He had some vampires to dust.

He almost smiled at the thought of it—a bit dark, considering not a few feet later he averted another corpse, but it wasn't as if he didn't feel for the dead bodies. But he was, admittedly, beyond thrilled that there was some action for him. He wouldn't tell Jade—though she could likely tell it herself—but Spike was not set out to be a babysitter. Particularly when the main point was to _avoid_ the main population, and in connection, any action whatsoever. Was a bit less than bloody stimulating, and he was glad to have the chance for a good ol' dusting, save the day and all that. Probably carry him through the next little while, having a good bit of violence tucked under his belt.

Not that he _wanted_ the villagers to die to satiate his need for some action, but it did help a little.

He found the source of the bloodletters in one of the bigger houses. From the corpse outside the door, Spike deduced it was the old 'hold a family member outside the house, hostage, and threaten to be let in or slit the throat'. And then, of course, after the invitation was given, kill 'em all anyway. Spike wasn't overly impressed—hell he'd done it himself many, many times, but he did recognize it. Innocent humans were never ready to make that sacrifice, so they would kill everyone instead of letting one go. And in this case, Spike could tell from the mingled scents and the clear sniffles that the invitation-ers were children. Spike drew up to the house, hissing a bit under his breath.

"Bloody hell," He muttered. He couldn't cross over the barrier, not yet, which meant at least one of the original family members was still alive, although not for long if he couldn't get past.

There was a lull in the frightened shrieks, and Spike could finally hear the voices of the perpetrators.

"Pawell, sweetheart, you're scaring them. Honestly, you still have blood on your lips, it's going to drip into the carpet."

"You said you _hated_ this carpet. You said it was abhorrent, and no wonder the family deserved to die," The voice called Pawell responded in a matter-of-fact voice, earning a 'tschht!' from the first voice, and an increase in quiet sobbing from the gathered survivors.

"You have to mention dying, right now? He is not talking about _you_ ," the voice turned, soothing and accented, though in a different way than Pawell's. "Little children, there is nothing to cry about."

"Except your rapidly approaching deaths," Pawell muttered.

He earned a whine from the first voice, surprisingly high pitched to his more normally low tenor. "Pawell! What did I say? These are little treasures, no need to scare them to death."

"I swear, Ammon, you never getting tired of playing with your food. Which normally I don't care all too much about, but we were eating in Paris just a couple weeks ago and now we're in the ass-end of Russia. _Russia_."

"My palette required a change. Yes, these aren't the posh little treasures with that piquant little taste, but _variety_ , sweetheart."

"Ugh. Can we just ki—move on? At least go to Moscow, where there's actually technology. And it's getting cold this time of year, and it's just Russia."

"There are some fantastic vacation spots here, baby, you just have to give it a chance. And you promised, you promised you would."

"Don't pout. Not the lip thing, Ammon. You know I can't—" The man sighed. "Fine, fine. Take your time, then. I'll just sit here and wait, then."

"Not just wait," Ammon said with a cheery tone. "Got a present for you, sweetie. Looks like we have an unwanted visitor. You can entertain yourself with that—"

 _Bloody hell_ , So much for eavesdropping. Spike staggered back away from the house's frame. So far, he had only heard two of them—vampires, bloody obviously. Be sodding helpful if they were younger than Spike, or at least close, since Spike was a hardy enough fighter that he could likely still best them even if they were older than him—hell, he had beaten Angel once, and the poof had a hundred and twenty seven years on Spike. It was however true that Spike had, in his entire unlifetime, only beaten the big forehead in a tussle once. Spike had wanted it more. He hoped he wanted it plenty this time. He was on his own, for good reason. He could smell the blood, in various degrees, from the whimpering children still within the house.

'Course, Spike didn't get to focus on them for very long.

In a blur, a look of glee on his face, the vampire named Pawell crossed the barrier that Spike couldn't. He was dressed in modern enough clothes, a leather jacket that wasn't nearly as impressive as Spike's duster. He had bright blue eyes that reminded Spike of Jade's—yet still not as bright or as alluring. He had long blonde hair, tied back into a ponytail. Looked like a ponce. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to have an age-meter anywhere on him, so Spike wouldn't be able to ascertain his opponent until the first punch.

And that punch, when it landed, _hurt_.

Spike flew back into the trees, very barely avoiding skewering himself to death on a branch and becoming a lovely layer of ash. So a bit older than him, then.

The long-haired vampire followed him, the aggressive look on his face dulled somewhat, an aloof, somewhat annoyed expression taking over instead. "Not too fond of poachers," Pawell growled.

"Oh, that's what you thought I was doing?" Spike groaned, pulling his shoulder out of the branch that just missed his heart. Pawell watched him but didn't immediately go after Spike. Maybe he was just like his companion, liking to play with his food. This was going well. "You got me all wrong, mate. Not trying to impeach or anything."

"No?" The stocky man raised an eyebrow, but didn't exactly look contrite, or altogether entertained. "Seems to me like you just wanted to lap up the remains like a vulture. Let someone else do the work."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Spike answered, not quite able to tame the cockiness that got him into most of his fights. "I wasn't coming for the leftovers. Just interested in you two, mate. Bit of a party-crasher. See, I just came here to kick your arses and save the day—night. Quite noble, really."

The man stared at him. "So you thought admitting to trying to kill us rated better than just trying to steal scraps?"

"What can I say? I have standards," Spike smirked. The easy route, not his favorite one. Grovelling, not his shtick either. Spike lived for the fights, and he'd found one.

And he was going to get the sodding hell beat out of him.

Pawell crossed over to where Spike had been pushed into the trees, snapping off a tree branch with some speed. Spike dodged the wide swings just barely, whirling his own blood-covered, makeshift stake—the one that had snapped into his shoulder, between his fingers. Spike had game-faced, but Pawell kept his human persona. Spike wasn't overly surprised by the vampire-on-vampire fighting not taking much goading. Vampires were mostly solitary creatures, despite the few that moved as clumps, or the orders that had sprung up over the years, but the truth was that the bigger the groups, more likely they crumbled for one reason or another. Made too big of a scene, offed by a mob, or just too much clashing, lots of strutting around, trying to prove who had the big guns. So that was here. In Ponytail's view, Spike had invaded in on his territory, so why not prove his gusto? No rules about vampires not killing other vampires—hell, Spike had done plenty of it before he'd gotten his chip, let alone his soul. See Annoying one's sunny venture, as endorsed by Spike. Spike wasn't one for authority figures.

"You're a little young to fancy yourself anything more than a fledgling hunter," Pawell observed. The tip of his branch scored across Spike's chest, and as the white-haired vampire rose his fist in recompense, Pawell had brought up his foot and kicked the younger vampire in the stomach, sending him back crashing into a few more trees. Spike rolled through the rubble and splinters, pushing himself back onto his feet.

"And what about you? Your kicks are a little un-impressive," Spike retorted with a bit more confidence than he did deserved. "1800s?"

"Not even close."

"Shame," Spike returned, tackling the ponytailed vampire and knocking Pawell's stake out of his hand. Spike scrambled back up before Pawell could hold him down, throwing a wild strike at him that glanced off of Pawell's jaw. "If you say you're from the crucifixion, I'll know that's bollocks," Spike danced backwards, not quickly enough to dodge a blow to his face that resulted in a solid cracking of his nose. Blood spurted, down past his lips and to his chin, and Spike had a sinking feeling that his answering kick to Pawell did little but annoy the older vampire—not even slow him down. He elbowed Pawell in the throat, but took a heavy punch to the stomach in return, and Spike fell to the ground, sprawled out as he scrambled for his makeshift stake.

Pawell picked it up first, the stocky man's legs trapping Spike's as he bore down on him. Spike wrapped his hand around Pawell's wrist, keeping the stake from sinking into his chest, but he could tell that Pawell hadn't tried very hard yet. The older vampire wasn't drawing it out nearly long enough, obviously bored with the tryst, whereas Spike could have stood to take and give a couple more shots. He struggled against Pawell, but couldn't move Ponytail more than an inch.

Heh. He might bloody well die to a nobody vampire. Hadn't expected that. Sure, it was a battle, but not the kind he expected. No pools of blood. Spike wasn't crippled, but he was pinned down, losing the fight. He thought back to Jade. He was leaving her by herself. Been a bit stupid then, hadn't it been, not taking her with him. He had said all this time that he'd keep her from breaking out of control, but the truth was that she could easily overpower him if she wanted to. It wasn't the fact that he could physically stop her, but their friendship that kept her from going too far. So then the better point of plan would have been to take her with him, where he could keep an eye on her. He was still a bit too proud to admit that he needed her to dig him out of this, that her being stronger than him as a Slayer was even more encompassing now. And sod all, she was one hell of an ace in the hole now, and he had asked her to stay behind.

Not the most brilliant of plans, which was why he tried not to concoct them—they always went south. His vamp-face had faded, and he couldn't quite call it back, preferring to stare at the other demon human-to-human.

"I should thank you," Pawell continued. "My lover insisted on dragging me out here, where I thought I'd be bored to tears. Thank you for alleviating some of that boredom."

"Here to entertain, yeah?" Spike grunted. "Oh, and to stop you all from killing innocent lit'l kiddies. Still plan on doing that, by the way. As soon as I bloody get up."

Pawell smirked. "Ammon would like you. He'd find you handsome and sexy, and probably drag this out a little, but I'm just going to end this before he sees you. I'm not dragging you around for the next week through Russia with us."

"Well," Spike replied. "I _am_ handsome and sexy, so your lover'd be right. 1700s?"

Pawell scoffed and shook his head. "Goodbye strange little Samaritan." Pawell pressed the stake down with the open palm of his hand. Spike's fingers were bleeding from the splintered, rough edge of the stake, the blood and general angle making it difficult for him to hold onto it, not to mention Pawell was stronger than Spike. Spike should have learned after all these years to stop pissing off Master vampires. Though that was the fun part, that it was an uneven fight he'd probably lose.

At least it _had_ been fun, but now he felt like a moron. He'd be gone without so much of a whisper, running into some no-named Vampire he had never heard of, leaving Jade all alone in Russia.

Jade.

Buffy.

He'd never see them again. He allowed himself that tiny bit of melancholy admittance, but he still wouldn't beg. Like it would do much anyway, Pawell seemed a bit of a hard-arse. The thought after that made Spike smirk and shake his head, but he doubted one last jab at Pawell's sex life wouldn't be worth it. So, as Spike had done many times before, he braced for the end.

 _See you in Hell, Dru._

 _I love you, Buffy._

 _I'm sorry, Jade._

Those were his three goodbyes, and of course, for good measure,

 _Angel, you're a tosser._

That pretty much covered it. He could feel the tip sinking closer into his chest, and he spat out the blood that had dripped down his lips. Pawell had leaned back so that it hadn't hit him, a decidedly triumphant and languid look on his sneering face. Spike didn't close his eyes, didn't go lax. He'd fight for every last second, as he had done throughout the entirety of his unlife.

As it was, he'd be glad for that resolve later.

Pawell bore down, and Spike couldn't stop it from going any further. It was the end for the white-haired vampire, when there it was, a blur in the corner of his vision, and he couldn't even be angry, although he was a bit embarrassed. Here was the part that he got saved by his fledgling bodyguard.

* * *

She hadn't been able to wait any longer. The screams had continued, so she had tracked them, but she followed Spike's order to not breathe in, to not smell anything of any kind. She stalked through the trees, a silent, moving corpse, and she hadn't found anything alive. Plenty of bodies with drying blood on them, and it was so very hard to avert her gaze. They were already dead, right? It shouldn't have been wholly terrible, it wasn't as if she had let them die so she could pick up the leftovers.

But it was still human blood, and she hadn't had a taste of that yet, and she wasn't about to. It would make it all harder. So she looked away from the tempting bodies, focusing on the one thing that kept her from turning back to the still bodies in her wake. She hadn't found Spike yet. She knew his scent well enough by now, that smoky cigarette scent, and intoxicating musk that seemed all Spike, but she couldn't use her sense of smell. That left eyes and hearing, which she focused as much as she could, even vamping so that her night-vision would increase.

As it was, it was her hearing that alerted her to Spike. The cracking of trees diverted her from the sounds of squealing children, for she focused on what sounded like a fight, and if she knew Spike, he'd be in the middle of it. She increased her sprint, until she could hear their voices—one was definitely Spike's. She slowed to what seemed a mere crawl, choosing to be silent and slow until she saw it for herself. And it was a good thing she had, for she could see them now. Spike was crouched in the dirt. He had blood on him, but didn't seem overly injured. Another vampire had trapped him down with his own body, and was pushing a stake into Spike's chest. Jade's heart would have skipped a beat if it still beat. As it was, she was flooded with immense relief. She had gotten here just in time.

And it was fortunate she hadn't drawn attention to herself, because it was likely the man—the vampire—would have just finished the job, and Spike would be nothing but ash. But he wasn't, Jade was here, Jade was here in time. She realised she hadn't brought any stake with her, and though she could easily snap one off the trees around her, she didn't want to draw attention to herself. No matter, she'd use the one that Spike had being driven into his chest.

Jade drew close as she could in silence, and then sprang.

The vampire noticed her in the last heart beat, turning just as Jade fell upon him. Her fingers latched over the long haired man's hand, vying for the stake. She wrenched it away from Spike, and the unknown vampire elbowed her in the face, glancing across her cheek, the two of them holding onto the stake. She and the vampire fell backwards, into the ground, and Spike scrambled up. Despite the blood coming through the torn hole in his chest, he was alive—or rather, unalive, but he was okay. Not dust, but cold flesh and blood. She struggled with the other vampire, trying to pry the wood from his grasp, giving him a swift kick to the stomach, eliciting the sound of crunch and a yelp of pain from him.

"I'm beginning to bloody think that you just wait for the last second to swoop in and save me, and pretend your timing's really good." Spike accused her, but his tone was warm, his blue eyes shining gratefully at her. She flashed a smile in return, glad that he hadn't yelled at her for breaking orders.

"What can I say, you make a good damsel in distress." She shot back with mirth, earning a good-natured scowl, bordering on pout from Spike, until he suddenly sobered.

"Careful, Pawell here isn't alone."

"Good to know," Jade said, swinging her fist at the other vampire. He was fast, but so was she, and her knuckles connected with his jaw. Another snap, breaking of bones, and a muffled groan. Pawell's fingers relaxed on the stake, and Jade pulled it from his grasp. It had Spike's blood on it, and she found a growl bursting from her throat, turning her fierce look onto Pawell. She had brought her face back to human, but the long haired man's face had become the demon, golden eyes looking a bit uneasily back at her.

"Did you also drag your lover to the ass-end of Russia, then?" The man spoke, albeit not entirely clearly, wincing from his deformed jaw. He spoke to Jade, as if he assumed she was the alpha—something that might have amused her, but she didn't let herself revel in it, not even allowing herself to note that Pawell had assumed she and Spike were together.

"Something like that," Jade returned. Pawell swung at her, and she caught it in her shoulder, though she struck back at his leg for good measure, causing the man to trip down to his knees before he sprang back up. He _was_ fast, faster than Spike or Angel, and strong, but so was Jade. She had the strength of the Slayer and the Vampire, and she had Spike behind her. She was calm, focused, ignoring the pain for it'd heal quickly enough. She struck out at Pawell's throat, and then moved to the side, nearly behind him as she kicked out at the same leg, this time from behind the knee-cap. This time, when the vampire fell to the ground, he did not get up so quickly.

"You are fast," Pawell observed, with more respect in his voice than fear, but there was some trepidation in his gaze as he looked at her now. "Much older than your counterpart, yeah? 1500s?"

"What is with you vampires and trying to guess ages?" Jade asked of no particular person.

"It's achievement, luv," Spike drawled from behind her. "Lots of vampires get together, hierarchy usually solves that bit. The strongest or the most sadistic usually end up carrying the crown. Hurry up and finish him, we got the other vampire to worry about."

"He will kill both of you," Pawell spat. "He's from the Crucifixion."

"Really?" Spike asked with idle curiosity. "Because I've heard that claim plenty."

Pawell blanched, making a face. "Alright. The crusades. The uh, third Crusade."

"Thought so," Spike smirked, while Jade was a bit more hesitant. She shouldn't be stopping for the fact that this vampire wasn't alone—with his lover, she had figured out, and from the barest she could remember about the crusades—she had mostly been interested in Robin Hood when she had read about it, Pawell's partner could be around eight hundred years old. That was likely the oldest vampire she had ever seen. Even the Antov siblings from Haven had only been less than three hundred. She'd be hard-pressed as a Slayer to take him down, but she could have, possibly. And now, as a Slayer-Vampire, she shouldn't have anything to worry about. Shouldn't hesitate at the vampire who had nearly killed Spike.

That thought jarred her into action, and she halted Pawell's attempt to stand back on his feet with one hand to his shoulder, pressing him back down. She held her stake at the ready, end pointing into Pawell's chest.

"Do you want to know how old I am?" She whispered to him, his golden eyes flitting from her to Spike and back to her with increasing agitation. "Three weeks."

His eyes widened, his mouth opened, and he let out a slightly garbled cry for help. "Ammon—"

Jade sunk the stake into his chest.

"NO!" A voice sounded in distress as Pawell exploded into dust.

Jade looked up, and there was another man, thin, and reedy, with naturally dark skin, though the paler complexion of a vampire. He had dark hair, swept back, his eyes a dark green, nearly black in the night, and blood dripping from his lips. He was staring, incomprehensibly at the dust coating the ground and Jade.

"You have killed my darling!" The vampire wailed. "My lover, my true love."

"You can always join 'im, mate," Spike interjected casually, clearly unaffected by Ammon's piteous sobs. Jade's hand on the stake faltered, guilt filtering through her. She forgot for a moment that they were killers, murderers—and apparently had been so for quite a long time. She thought without meaning to, back to when she had dusted Bennett. Back then, she had felt like he had been the love of her life—and he had been, despite how young they were, she had known him since they were young. She had been lost then, her other half gone, and she shouldn't be guilty, not now. She'd killed a murderer, not a significant other, but it was hard to separate. Her compassion for Vampires had been clear in Haven; she hadn't _needed_ to kill Vampires, especially not the fledglings as they popped out of the ground, so she hadn't.

But this was silly, her guilt. For Christ's sake, he still had the blood of innocents on his teeth—although she couldn't and wouldn't tell from the scent of it. She'd separate the couple by death, but she could sure as hell reunite them again. That's what she did. She was a Slayer. Or at least, she hopefully hadn't forgotten how to be one.

She twirled the stake within her fingers, standing back up straight.

"I picked him out from the Thirty Years' War," Ammon was continuing to babble. "I was always loyal to him. Since I had him, I didn't want anything else. We were the scourge of Europe."

"That was me, mate. And Dru. I guess Angel and Darla," Spike added the last two names begrudgingly. Jade sent him a glower.

"Are you bragging right now?"

"Well, he just gotta get his facts right," Spike said defensively. "Scourge of Europe, that was us."

Jade shook her head. Demons. She turned her attention back to Ammon, approaching him. He glanced up at her, tears in his dark eyes.

"How could you?" He accused. "We were happy. We weren't hurting anyone."

"You're…you have blood on you right now," Jade pointed out, arching her eyebrow. She didn't know what she expected, but if Ammon was from the crusades, she might have thought he'd be well…wise, not so eccentric, but perhaps that was unkind, seeing as he just lost apparently, his lover of a very long relationship. But she wouldn't make him grieve for long. She gripped the stake, coated with Spike's blood and Pawell's ashes.

"Well those are _people_ ," Ammon pointed out. "That's just dinner. That doesn't count. You-you're vampires. You should know."

"We're a special breed," Jade disagreed, and Ammon looked at her oddly, his eyes red-rimmed.

"Oh, there it is." He looked at Jade and then Spike. "A soul!" He spat out the word as if it were dirt. "Disgusting," Ammon moaned piteously. "You deserve to die."

"Well, you can try it out first. Meet up with Ponytail," Spike offered.

"His name was Pawell!" Ammon burst out vehemently. "And I loved him. We killed so many…" He sobbed. "So many delicious foods together. Oh, I never should have left Paris! He told me he wanted to stay."

Jade made a face at the somewhat devastated vampire, catching Spike's sneer. "You don't have to be so heartless," Jade commented. "He did just lose the love of his unlife."

"Oh, he just needs to buck up," Spike returned, unfazed. "I was _never_ that pathetic after Dru broke up with me. Little bit of crying, yeah, but mostly I just tried to get her back with a love spell."

Jade raised an eyebrow.

"Not pathetic," Spike insisted. "Just put him out of his misery already."

Jade shrugged, and then approached the last few feet to the huddled form. She was half-expecting him now to just accept it, seeing as he had been a rather limp form before that, but before she could even touch him, he rose up with sudden magnanimous speed, clutching at her throat. His reedy fingers wrapped around her neck, and she was glad, once again, that she didn't need to breathe. His grip was _strong_ , clutching down on her. Spike moved in an instant, throwing a fist at the vampire, but Ammon caught Spike's outstretched fist between his fingers easily. He held the both of them, but Jade was back in the action, swinging her knee into Ammon's stomach and lifting him up. He released Jade and Spike, flying up and back down in a tangle of limbs.

"Ow!" Ammon cried out. "It still… doesn't hurt as much as seeing my lover's remains." Indeed, for he had landed near them, and tried scooping some up from the dirt. Spike wrinkled his nose, and Jade sighed, and then threw herself back at the man. She was more evenly matched then she would have expected, his advanced age giving him the speed and limber to roll out of the way of Jade's next blow, but she still hit harder. She felt his long fingernails scratch across the edge of her jaw and down the side of her neck, but she ignored the sharp sting of pain, wrapping her fingers around his upper arm and shoulder and pulling for all she was worth. There was the sound, a satisfactory snap, and another high-pitched caterwaul from Ammon as Jade wrenched his arms out of the socket. She felt his free hand claw up the side of her in recompense, ripping at her torso, but her previous hesitation had been stunted, the roar of battle in her blood, so much she barely noticed the pain. She slammed Ammon down on the back, hard, eliciting another cry. She hit him again, blood coming out of his nose, ignoring the cry he had about his beautiful face. Even Spike was standing back, letting Jade fight Ammon on her own, and she was winning.

"I'm sorry about your ah, partner," Jade felt compelled to apologize.

"We were together for just under four hundred years," Ammon sniffed, pathetically trying to defend himself with his one good arm as Jade advanced closer and closer with her stake. Time to end this, for good. She had forgotten about the victims, the ones that were already dead and the ones that would have been, thought nothing of her target in front of her. He was on his last legs, bleeding and rapidly backing up while his escape closed off. He had apparently decided that escaping was more important than mourning his dead lover, but it didn't matter, because he wasn't going to escape.

"He did leave me during the Cold War, but that was it," Ammon insisted. "We were working on our problems."

"Bloody hell, just kill him, Slayer," Spike sounded irritably. "I can't handle any more of his sobbing."

Jade shrugged in acquiescence, approaching the distressed vampire with the stake in her hand, as she had done to his lover. But as she neared, he struck out suddenly with his less injured leg, kicking her full in the stomach and lifting her up in the air. It was more of a surprise than anything, not hurting her overly much, though she did land several meters of way. She could have gotten right back up and finished the job.

If she hadn't taken a sharp inhale at the impact, one her human self would have done by habit, one that her demon self didn't need.

If the surviving children hadn't left the house after the one who would have been their butcher had.

If one child in particular hadn't come to see the commotion.

If she hadn't been hungry from an incomplete hunt, and the loss of energy she had spent during the tussle.

If that child hadn't been dripping with blood from his neck, a job started but not done.

If that sharp breath hadn't perfectly captured the scent of it, the fresh, oozing essence, the iron tang, the hint of fear and youth, and how very, very close the child was to her.

Jade vamped immediately.

* * *

He hadn't been taking it seriously, not after Jade arrived. Yeah, he was a bit jealous of her, her speed and incredible strength, and she had taken down Ponytail without barely a scratch—something to bloody envy, Spike was aching all over. Nothing as bad as having his leg broken and knee busted by the Super-bitch, but here he would have actually died, whereas Mandy would have kept him around for a bit longer. Couldn't blame her for that. He did have a hot body. One that Pawell had assured him Ammon would be interested in, but the older vampire did nothing but cry.

And it was making Spike think of himself with Dru, after she had dumped him. So Dru hadn't died, he probably would have been a bit more devastated by that at the time, but it had still been devastating. Still, he'd like to think he took it with a bit more class than Ammon was, barely even putting up a fight against Jade, although he was sure that his Slayer could win even if Ammon had given half a bloody effort. So Spike was watching, abnormally unneeded, staring at the prowess of the Slayer-Vampire and he was, admittedly, a little envious. He'd been rescued _again_ , by a fledgling no less, but he could see she was struggling a bit at putting down the broken-hearted vampire.

Hell, Spike had been there before. After all he had done to Buffy and her scoobies, it was sadly mainly pity in the beginning—or just a lack of interest—that kept them from offing him. However, Spike didn't consider that mercy, and he sure as hell wasn't going to make the same choice here. So the vampire was crying about his dead lover? He could die too. Although it was nice to have yet another example of vampires that could be in love. Buffy hadn't believed that it was possible, though Dru had described it best. Vampires, those without souls, they could love, just not bloody wisely.

Ergo Drusilla still being in love with her sire, the monster who had fractured her mind and drove her crazy, and Spike, for being in love with the Slayer that should have killed him. Buffy, his mortal enemy, yet he'd still bent over backwards trying to save the damn bint, which had gotten him in trouble more than once. But it didn't matter. That wasn't important right now, but making sure that Mr. Bawly joined his dusty beloved. They still had to save the day after all.

And Jade was about to kill him, end the pathetic little exchange when Ammon landed one final, desperate kick at her, one that didn't win the fight in his favor but only prolonged it, something that shouldn't have and didn't even slow Jade down, but something else did.

He hadn't been watching. It was his fault. He was sneering and laughing at the pathetic eight-hundred something year old vampire that he had let his guard down, appreciating Jade's blurred strikes, the heavy sounds of cracking and impact, that he hadn't realised the smell of fresh blood had drifted so close to them. Then he saw the child, one of Ammon's victims that hadn't been finished off. He had escaped the house Spike couldn't have entered, but instead of escaping, he had come, curious, his eyes blank and wide. The child's blood smelled similar to some of the bodies Spike had passed on his way here, family members that had been killed already. Perhaps that was why he had drawn so close, no longer caring.

But the child had found Jade first, not Spike. Spike wasn't close enough.

He saw her face change, saw the fangs come out, her eyes flash yellow. The boy, who had been staring out without reacting, regained his fear in order to scream, a shrill sound. Jade was back on her feet, and at the behest of her demon's instincts, her hunger, had gone in for the kill. She reached out to steady the boy, preparing to finish the half-finished job on the boy's neck. Her head swooped lower.

"Jade! Don't kill him! He's just a boy!" Spike shouted, as loudly as he could. He was only remotely aware of Ammon rising shakily to his feet, with his grotesque limp, taking the chance to flee. Spike couldn't give one sodding damn about it. He'd forgotten the pathetic vampire immediately, all his focus on Jade. The boy had whimpered as she had descended towards his throat, but there was no following scream of pain. She hadn't bit down yet. Spike slammed into her then, as he reached her, finding that she still hadn't moved. The boy was staring up at her, his eyes wide, and her fingers were steadying the boy, wrapped around his shoulders, but then she hadn't moved.

"Jade, let him go," Spike ordered, before he rounded on the other side of her. And then there it was. Her face was scant centimeters from the boy's wound, but had not sunk in. Her face was human still.

And she was absolutely bloody still.

She hadn't moved, didn't blink, didn't breathe. He supposed he should be thankful for her restraint, when he realised that she wasn't even looking at him, not moving her eyeballs. She had a distance, empty look in her expression, one that was frightfully familiar to him. Having a horrible suspicion he hoped was wrong, he layered his fingers on top of Jade's, peeling them off of the boy's shoulders, finding no resistance. She still hadn't moved, but the boy was free.

"Go," Spike growled at the boy, who let out a whimper and scampered off. Spike knew he should do more, should track down help for the victims, but he was staring at the frozen Jade, who still was hunched over. He gripped her shoulders, pulling her straight up, staring into her face, which had lost its vamp-side. It was human, but blank, as she stared, still as stone.

"Jade? Jade, wake up." He said with increasing agitation, shaking her. "Bloody move, damnit."

She wouldn't.

She didn't.


	6. Night Twenty Two

**NIGHT TWENTY TWO**

It had been two days and she hadn't moved. Not so much as stirred, she had been completely still, as if a statue. Spike had tried, time and time again, to try to bring her out of whatever the hell fugue state she had fallen in too and he had had no sodding luck at all. All he could think of was Buffy, all those years ago, after Glory-bitch had stolen the Niblet right from her, and Buffy had lapsed into a stupor. Nothing Spike had been able to do had helped, even shaking the living daylights out of the blonde. It had been Willow that had brought Buffy back, not Spike. And he wasn't any more knowledgeable this time around, not in magical mojo miracles, at least. He'd tried shaking Jade, punching her even—somehow feeling guilt instead of noting it as necessary. She had completely healed from her fight with Ponytail and Mr. Sobby, but she hadn't eaten anything in the last two days, hadn't so much as blinked. She was so still and unmoving, it was almost as if she was a corpse for real, and Spike didn't know what to do.

He'd tried snapping her out of it, tried giving her time, but he was running out of options. He had a near-comatose Slayer-Vampire, and he was afraid that whenever she did come out of this fit that her hunger wouldn't be controlled this time. Bloody hell. For once, he was regretting his decision to do this all alone. He'd thought it might help her, less distraction, less humans, but Spike felt as if he was sorely lacking. He needed Red, and her mystical whammy to snap Jade out of whatever was repressing her, but he didn't have a phone. So here, the second night after Jade had slipped away, Spike had found them another hotel. He'd paid for it while he left her out in the truck, partially paranoid she'd choose that time to wake and go berserk. Be his bloody luck at least, but it went well enough. She was there when he got back, and the one thing about travelling at night was that it wasn't the biggest scene to be seen carrying a limp woman in his arms to a seedy hotel room.

Alright, so it would have been somewhat suspicious, but as Spike had been careful, and quick, and despite Jade's massive strength, she was quite light, and he barely noticed the weight in his arms.

He brought her in, half-glad that she wasn't jostled into consciousness before they made it into the darkness, but half still bloody antsy that she didn't react to being jerked around. He walked into the middle of the room, laying her on the bed which sank, even under her sparse weight. It wasn't the most extravagant of places—it was a lousy dump, but it would do without draining the rest of their money, and he was sick and tired of sticking himself in the back of the truck with her during daylight to try to revive her. Mostly, he just drove, through the burning sunlight as he would if she was cognizant. But all it did was get them closer to Ola, and how far away they were from it didn't bloody matter if she was going to stay all comatose.

She crumbled like a rag-doll, though admittedly more stiff in posture than a living being would be, she was still, her eyes still staring out but not moving. Spike let out a huff of exasperation, flicking on the room's light out of habit rather than necessity. He cast a look upon her, warily. He'd be pissed as hell if she waited for him to be gone from the room to wake up, but as she had been before, she stayed completely rigid, and with a muttered, "Bloody hell," under his breath, the vampire left the hotel room to amble back to the car. There, he retrieved their cooler, with the bags of animal blood he had purchased the night before. Hunting was more of a pain in the ass without Jade to do most of it—not that Spike couldn't, but again, it would be leaving the vampire alone for an extended period of time, and he hadn't wanted to risk it. Instead, he used their quickly dwindling funds to buy several quarts of blood, which would satisfy them just fine.

If she woke up, that was. He hauled it over his shoulder, reaching for the box of cigarettes he stored in his pocket, the vice he had given into out of a need to curb his anxiety. He smoked one on his way back to the room, but it didn't alleviate his concerns. Damn Jade, making him give a damn. Spike rarely worried, at least he tried not to show it. But he was twisted up inside, a far cry from mollified, and he didn't know what to do.

That was the real bugger of it all.

Two days, and his Slayer-Vampire charge hadn't moved. He didn't think it was magically induced—somehow Mr. Sobby didn't strike him as the spell-binding type. No, this was something else, but that didn't help Spike know what the hell it was. All he could think of was how it had happened to Buffy, and how bloody useless he had been in that regard. What he needed was a witch, and Willow came to mind. But it wasn't that easy—never could be, could it? Sure, if he sounded the call for help, and Red came soaring in, he doubted it would just be her opinion that would follow along. Angel had been the one to mention magical experimentation on Jade, and this would be a hell of a chance for that. Just lock her up and shove mojo at it until they were sure she could wake without the lust for human blood. But that was too many variables, too many dabbles in things that people had no idea about, and he couldn't risk that.

Couldn't risk Jade being the new Dana, locked in a cage until they had time to deal with her. And it would be so damn easy for them, a relief, really, if they didn't' have this mega bomb on their hands, Jade with all her raw strength and power, yet that insatiable lust that may or may not be able to be controlled. That was the bloody stickler. Spike was the one that would have the most faith in her, remind Buffy that Buffy let Willow, who almost destroyed the world—and nearly killed Niblet in a car crash—run free after that, and hell, she was more powerful than anything now. What was reining her in? Nothing and nobody. But magic could trump vampires, even one as powerful as Jade, so they'd use it without a second thought. It was just Spike's wants against all of them, and he'd be overruled in a second. Like Buffy would ever pick Spike's feelings over her Slayerettes' safety. Never in a bloody million years. They'd quash the threat as soon as they had a chance.

He was on his own.

He mashed his cigarette beneath his boot, took one more look at the brightening sky, and delved indoors.

She hadn't moved, not bloody surprising. He moved the cooler in, transporting the blood bags to the flickering fridge, hoping it'd stay cold enough to not spoil the food. After it was gone, Spike'd have to go back to hunting for his blood, and that'd be a pain in a half without Jade. So she'd just have to wake up before then.

"Bloody easier said than done," Spike muttered humourlessly under his breath. Feeling strange at how Jade was sprawled, almost vulnerably looking, on the mattress, he dragged her to a sitting position, leaning her back and head against the bed's headboard, keeping her upright. Her eyes didn't move, wide open, the most vacant look in those blue eyes, that were normally so warm and affable. He missed that, and the little, almost shy smirk on her lips sometimes when she'd look at him from afar and thought he didn't notice.

He sat on the edge of the bed with her, one of the jars of animal blood in his hand. He opened it and held it close to her, so much that the edge of the jar nearly touched her lips. But nothing. No movement, not even vamp-face, the same result as the last bloody times he had tried to get a reaction out of her. He growled with frustration but not surprise, and drank half the jar himself, quelling his own rising hunger pangs. His hunger seemed insignificant compared to hers when she broke out of the fugue state.

If she ever did.

Bloody hell, not waking up wasn't an option. In fact, this sod had gone on long enough. He was tired of looking at her, waiting for the modicum of movement. Tired of staring at a doll that didn't joke or laugh or smile. Even her bawling would be a better deal than this. He wanted Jade back. Whatever it had that had her so far in her head was going to end now.

He set his teeth in a grimace and set the jar down to the side of the bed. He hauled himself closer to Jade, grasping her tiny wrists in his larger hands, as if they were manacles. He had to reach her somehow, and since intellectual and mystic whammy weren't really his forte, he'd rely on what he knew best. Physicality—the violent kind. Sure, it hadn't rose Buffy from her oblivion, but he also hadn't hit her very hard—hadn't been allowed to. But Jade could take a hell of a beating, and heal it back up. So he shouldn't feel guilty about what he was about to do. It was necessary.

Still, he couldn't help but muttering a "Sorry," and trying one more time to bring her back with his words. "Come on Jade," He implored her gruffly. "Wake up, Slayer. You've had enough of a kip. Time to come back to the living, yeah? Well. Unliving." He looked at her. She stared back from where he had positioned her, but other than that, there was nothing. Not the slightest tremor. He swore under his breath and hit her across the cheek.

Her head moved, but by the force of his slap rather than her own reaction, as it had been the other times Spike had tried. And it felt so wrong, hitting something that didn't fight back, particularly since this was Jade, and they had each other's back in a way that relieved Spike, made him feel part of something again, but here she was, letting him down.

So he let anger fuel his next strike, rather than being set back by his guilt. Her jaw this time, and still nothing, though she bounced against the headboard, and a splintering sound was heard. Spike winced. He was going to break the damn thing—and possibly the wall, if he kept striking Jade against it. So he pulled her, her upper body toppling forward. Her head fell to rest on his shoulder and clavicle, as if he was pulling her into an embrace. But it wasn't right, him touching her while she couldn't move, made Spike feel disgusting inside, even if the touches were innocent and necessary. He thought about Buffy, and what he had nearly done to the blonde he loved, and was filled with revulsion, so he was transferring that onto Jade, that this was wrong, and he hated it so much, he wanted nothing more than her to just wake up.

"Bloody wake up," he shouted at her this time, when he moved her so she could be upright on her own. Another strike to the face, but she absorbed it without toppling backwards. She stared, lost in her somnolence, and he took it as insolence. She wanted to just stay in her head, did she? Just give up on everything because she lost control for one second? She hadn't even hurt the little runt. He had scampered off with the rest of the survivors, no doubt traumatized for life, and Spike hadn't stuck around to see them off because he had carried Jade into the night. They'd let Ammon get away too, the older of the vampire, off bawling without his mate, a loose cannon that would likely wreak havoc on the innocent. They'd let him go too, failed at that, despite the fact a four hundred year old vampire was dust, the ones that Ammon killed Spike would blame himself for. And he blamed Jade too. Blamed her for sitting 'round when work was to be done.

Blamed her for making him stew in his own anxiety, for him to worry so bloody much. So he struck her again, the force of it enough to make his own hand sting, and her cheek to be bright red from the impact. It lingered there a bit longer than he expected, no doubt her healing abilities were stunted a bit from the lack of blood. Great, that just meant he'd be likely to bruise her if he went on this way, more of his guilt staring him in the face.

"Wake the hell up," He growled at her, remembering in time that there were other hotel rooms around, even if the place was mostly empty, and hitting her and yelling was the best way to draw attention to themselves. Which was exactly what he didn't need right now. No distractions, no nothing. They were going to sit here until Jade came back to him.

That is, just came back in general. His sudden possessive thought confused him somewhat, adding to the mix of feelings roiling in his belly.

"Come on Slayer," He said, with less ire in his tone than his last sentences, almost pleading. "You got to come back now." He reached out towards her, but instead of slapping her, he gripped the sides of her face with his hands, forcing her to look at him. And she did, with that vacant, empty gaze. He shook her a little, felt the smaller woman tremor, but not react.

What if she didn't ever come back? Well, that'd be a bit of a respite for the Slayerettes. No big weapon for them, but nothing that could be used against them neither. They'd probably mention their condolences, promise their mind-power towards finding an option to help her, with books or magic, but secretly they'd be relieved and push it to the back of their priorities. Spike couldn't have them do that. So what that Jade would live forever, that five years, or a hundred wouldn't make any difference to her, not in immortality, it wasn't right. He didn't want her to have to wake up and see a life gone by, that wasn't fair for her. She threw herself into the fights, with no care of self-preservation, she didn't deserve the back lines. Didn't deserve this suspension.

And plus, he found he'd miss her. Didn't know how it happened. So quickly, it seemed, she was just a Slayer, like all the other Slayers in the world—almost too damn many of them now, not as special, but she was different. Somehow, she was less arrogant and less of a stuck-up bitch, and just a bit of a loner. Enough of an odd-duck to appeal to Spike, in her less-refined manners and just plain flaws. She cared a little too much about other people, but not about herself, she had the martyr-bug just as much as any Slayer, but she was good. Somehow, she made Spike feel as if he could be too. She never judged him on his past, not like the Slayerettes, who'd never forget. No she actually accepted the fact that he had a second chance, and didn't try to take it away from him. She accepted him as he bloody was, and he also knew that she'd be telling him to hit her hard right now if that was what it took.

Didn't make it much easier, though.

He held her face and looked into her eyes. "Come on, Girl Wonder. I know you can see me. Do something about it."

Nothing. No reaction to anything, and he had hit her as hard as he could. Nearly broke his damn fingers, and he didn't think he was getting any closer. Could hit her until she was black and blue, it must not be pain that would bring her back. But what else did he know?

Pleasure. Spike grimaced at the thought, that revulsion for himself rising back up in his throat, as if it were bile. But that was Spike, the whole package deal. All bloody pain and pleasure, the entire make-up of his unlife. But it sickened him. Did it always have to be while she couldn't bloody respond? And yet that was his fault, never making a move whenever she could do something about it. He looked at her face, so close to his, and held back a shudder. It wasn't the thought of kissing her again, that wasn't the reason for his hesitation. That he was doing it for the wrong reasons, just to bring her back. And he was. At least, that was all he should be doing it for.

"Worked once before," He muttered to himself, and his tight, suppressing grip on Jade became gentler, almost a caress, as he held her steadily. He brought his face to her still one, trying to fight back his guilt and hesitation and planted a kiss on her lips. She was cold this time, instead of hot to the touch. That same mint freshness and hint of cigarette smoke with a latent taste of iron. Her lips were pliable, but didn't move. He pulled back, testing her reaction, and she was nothing but stone. He was angry now, angry at her and himself, and so he kissed her again, a bit rougher, his lips desperately plying at hers, but there was nothing.

He hated himself.

He sat back, rifling his fingers through his white-blonde hair in frustration. "What the hell does it take, huh?" He nearly shouted at her, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. He could still taste the feel of her on his mouth, tantalizing and taunting. She didn't move. He wouldn't kiss her again, no, it was far too close to home. She wasn't reacting at all, not this time. So no pain, no pleasure. What the hell would bring her back, then? God, he needed some bloody answers. Maybe he really was desperate enough to get Red over here. Damn the fallout, if it was the only way to get Jade to be Jade again, maybe it was worth it. Because he couldn't stand her like this, an empty husk, it wasn't right, not for her. She deserved better.

Better than being treated like a monster that she wasn't.

His head had rested in his hand, covering his eyes, when he looked up at her, narrowing his eyes. No pain, no pleasure, was else was there left, then? Words? Fat lot of good they had done him, but perhaps he hadn't said the right ones. Perhaps he just hadn't bloody reached her. His fingers outstretched, he reached for her throat, following the chain that hid the bauble beneath her throat. He pulled it out into the open, letting it rest in plain view, her shining, visible soul, the white smear of light trapped within a glass prison. It was still there. She must still be there.

He reached out and grasped her hands, hard again, holding them in his. "Come on back, Jade." He murmured to her. "It's all a'right." He squeezed her fingers. What would bring her back? What had even sent her away? Spike remembered yelling at her, desperately, because he couldn't reach her in time. It had been telling her not to kill the boy, that was it. And then she hadn't. She had completely froze, just to turn back to her human face, and then she was nothing. Why was that? He gripped her hands again, tighter.

"You didn't do anything," He reassured her, his voice as comforting as he could make it. "Jade, come back. You didn't kill the boy. He's alive."

The slightest twitch in her fingers. So small, but he felt it. "You damn well stopped yourself," Spike reminded her. "Didn't hurt a single hair on 'is head." Eye movement, a light tremor. So that's what it was, then. She had been so convinced that she had killed the boy. Like Buffy had gone back in her head when she thought she had killed her sister, that she had failed Dawn. But she hadn't, now had she? "You stopped yourself. I didn't get there in time," He murmured, leaning closer this time.

"You saved the boy."

Jade's eyes shuttered, then opened, along with a breath she didn't need, and then there she was, looking back at him. Her voice, so small and tremulous, was only heard because of Spike's advanced hearing. "He's alive?"

He squeezed her fingers. "He's alive."

She'd snapped. Like a twig, maybe, something pliable and weak. All she had felt was her hunger, the demon in her roaring up for its reward. The blood had been so close, dripping and ready, she had smelled in so deeply she could nearly taste it on her tongue. Spike's voice, his warning, had reminded her—she shouldn't have needed one—that it was just a _boy_ , not an animal for her to devour. Startled, shocked into revulsion, she had done the only thing she could, shut it all off.

She imagined killing that boy many many times in her head. All of her newfound strength, her power, and her mind hadn't been made any stronger. Disgust, horror and disbelief were rife in her and it had taken her very far away. She hadn't felt anything physical, only barely aware of the outside world. Nothing of night or day, nothing of movement, but only the slightest trace of feeling. Of Spike. She could feel him around him, not that he struck at her, but sometimes, the barest whispers of his words. It had been his warning that had jerked her out of hunt mode at the last second, and it whispered to her. But she hadn't wanted to listen.

Didn't want to hear about what a monster she was, to kill the child. She couldn't remember the taste of his blood on her lips, or how it dribbled down her throat, but she _must_ have, because she remembered the lunge and her outstretched fangs. So she must have killed the boy, for she thought of it often enough, how it would feel to bury her teeth in his throat and drink, her demon would be overjoyed. But it wasn't rampaging either. It was sullen. Couldn't escape while she still had control over the body, even if she just huddled in an unused corner of it for a while. So there was no demon, but no human either. Nothing but an empty husk. It could stay like that for a while. Get a few layers of dust, maybe crack, it didn't deserve to be used again if that's what she would do with it. To kill the innocent.

She was ignoring his whispers, the taunts, the lies that it would be alright—it was already far, far past that. Not the slightest chance that it would be okay.

Then she did listen in, in spite of herself. Heard of the boy. He was _alive?_ Her skepticism was momentarily beat back by hope, and she huddled closer to his words, hoped they were true. She felt her body moving again, felt herself coming back. Maybe it wasn't over. If the boy was still alive. If Spike wasn't lying to her. She stopped for a second. Would he do that? Maybe. She might do it for him. But he knew then, how much it would devastate her if it were a lie. So she let herself come back, let herself take in the world again and ask him herself.

And there he was, crouched on the bed with her, his hands holding hers, a mirage if there was one, and he was indignant, frustrated, but then there was a relieved smile on his lips when she took him in, really focused, Came into the world again. And he was nodding, squeezing her fingers in comfort, and she wanted to believe him.

"Did I—" She gulped. Alright, so the boy was alive, that didn't mean he was unharmed. Spike frowned, his blue eyes finding hers, and answered as if he knew where her thoughts were.

"You didn't even touch him," Spike reassured her, a mix of pride, but mostly resolve in his tone, a steel certainty. "You stopped, Slayer."

There he was, using her old name as if that was what she was. A Slayer of Vampires, and not one of them. But he was so sincere, so kind, she didn't know how to tell him otherwise, didn't say the words that wanted to come to her lips. She had stopped. This time. And not by much. A Slayer would never even have had that temptation. She wished so badly that she could be a Slayer again. She opened her lips to speak, finding them chapped, dry. She was hungry too. She felt that too, a clawing, overwhelming desire that overtook her much as it did before she had blacked out. Spike saw her expression, and reached to the side of the bed with one fluid motion, placing a jar in her hands. It was cold, unpleasant and noted by her fingers, but she was starving, and she couldn't take any chances again. She'd eat until she was so full she would burst.

And he kept giving her jars without complaint, in fact, he would likely pour them down her throat if she hadn't seemed so compliant. But she wanted the blood, because that was what she wanted now, this desire that had her twisted around, a slave to its whim, and she loathed it, but she would feed the beast so it didn't threaten to escape. But it might anyway. Was this the rest of her fate then, to fear the loss of her soul but also what she could do with it? She had often said that the soul isn't everything, and now she was terrified that that was right. That she could still do terrible things with it. That she nearly had.

And then there was Spike, relieved. Quiet even, pleased with himself, and she felt so pathetic in his presence, that she didn't deserve it at all. He had done all this to keep her away from humans, to let her build up a resistance to the allure, and the first chance she had she had failed spectacularly. He should hate her, not look at her with those concerned eyes, as if she were a glass cannon, and perhaps she was.

"What happened?" She asked, licking the last of the blood off her lips, finally satiated. "After I…"

"Ammon got away," Spike said with a bit of disgust in his tone. Not at her, but Jade felt it anyway. She had nearly overpowered him, and then… She shuddered at this bad news. "So did all the kiddies. Most of them lived." Spike continued. He had let go of her hands, resting his own in his lap. She missed the cool embrace, but she didn't deserve it. Her face felt sensitive, and she brought her fingers up to her cheekbone with trepidation, wincing as her fingers brushed against tender flesh.

His face flashed contrite. "Couldn't wake you." Spike explained. "Had to get a bit creative." He gestured towards her sore cheek, but as she massaged it softly with her fingers, the sting dissipated rapidly, no doubt helped on by the fact she had some blood in her system again.

She nodded in recognition. "I understand. It's fine. I'll heal." She dropped her hand from her pallid cheek. "Thanks for bringing me back."

His jaw clenched. "Yeah 'bout that, what the bloody hell was that? Go all comatose the moment you get a whiff of foodies?"

Jade winced, closing her eyes, noting that the harshness of his expression tamed a bit in the brief space of time. "Thought I killed him." She chewed the inside of her mouth so hard she felt a fresh tang of iron, her blood seeping onto her tongue. She felt a little odd as she swallowed it down. "Or maybe, I was making sure I didn't." She added as an afterthought. She had stopped, hadn't she? _Barely_ , she was reminded, a taunting word that surfaced again.

She was a monster.

"Well you didn't," Spike said brusquely. "Don't bloody do that again, you hear? I'm fresh out of ideas for bringing people out of comas, and I don't fancy trying it again."

If she had a splash of levity in her, she might make a wry remark that it was only because he didn't want to hurt his hands—she could see a redness on them as well, from his fingers, where he must have made contact with her face, but she couldn't bring herself to joke, even poorly. Instead, she nodded, compliant and obedient, though she disagreed. It was better, that way, wasn't it? For her poor mind to snap and leave her a unmoving vegetable, rather than he be a killer? She'd do it again if it meant she stopped in time. Fade far, far away where she couldn't hurt anyone any more. She'd always been good at distancing.

When Bennett died, she had delved very far into her own head. That time, she had the distraction of Slaying to throw herself into, and she cut out everything else that matter, feeling, thought. She moved as a drone. The same thing happened when she confirmed her sister Pen's betrayal. She'd broken Pen's back and moved on in her own selfishness, moved onto Haven where she didn't have to care about anything but the day to day. She'd never gone quite so far into the fugue state as she did this time around, but perhaps it helped that she was a vampire. Had no bodily functions, except for a need to feed. Could just slip into her own head. Easier that way. Yet Spike was looking at her like he had been concerned, really concerned, and she allowed herself to feel one thing: guilt.

She couldn't do that to him then. He hadn't escaped the pain of it. He had dark circles under his eyes. Had he been driving at night as well as day? Had he been getting proper food? She realised for the first time that she had drunk out of jars, and not a fresh animal, likely do to convenience. And money. She was in a hotel room, after all. More of their limited funds. This was her fault. Curling up her in her head had been selfish, and she couldn't do that to him.

But oh, she wanted to. It would be what she deserved. God, that child hadn't been more than nine or ten. Not far off from Neva, and Jade hadn't hesitated, not until the end. Until her fangs had nearly scraped the surface of his skin, nearly finished the job. How much blood was there in a child? At least she could say that she didn't know. She was beginning to learn the average in the animals she drank from, but humans were different. She hoped she never learned the difference.

She stared back at Spike, who was still impatiently awaiting an answer. An answer. A promise, then? She could give him one, for now.

"Alright," She said, and his eyes narrowed slightly but he didn't hassle her further. The suspicious look faded away, and then, an unusual expression on his face, slightly abashed.

"Do you remember me uh… hitting you?" He asked, a bit slowly. Jade thought back, and shook her head.

"Just the words." He looked relieved, and she felt obliged to remind him, "It's alright. Really. I appreciate whatever you tried to bring me out. Sorry if it took a while."

His eyes flashed, an emotion she couldn't catch, when he answered back, "Two nights."

She winced. "Did I hold us back?"

"Yeah, a tad," Spike answered truthfully, not trying to sugar coat it. "We'll make it up. Start up soon as night falls. Get some more blood in you, and we'll go off."

"Are there…" Jade wet her lips to hide her hesitation, but Spike saw it anyway. "People around?"

Spike nodded. "Hotel's not completely deserted. Most of them are on the other side, but there's a couple in their sorry excuse of a lobby. None too close, though." He added as an afterthought, likely to reassure her.

Her fingers reached out and crinkled the sheets. He followed the movement with focused blue eyes. "It'll be fine," Jade said, with more vehemence than she felt. She hesitated for a moment, then continued. "I shouldn't have disobeyed you," her voice had dropped to a whisper. "When you told me to stay. I was just afraid—"

Spike held up a hand. "Saved my unlife, didn't you? Killed off the bad guy, ran the other one off."

Jade's sigh of disappointment turned into an unexpected growl—a vampire thing, she supposed, but Spike wasn't startled by it.

"We saved most of them," He reminded her. "But bloody hell woman, you don't always have to run in like a sodding white knight."

He was right. She didn't have to. She probably shouldn't have. She had been far too close to the blood, been unable to hang onto rational thought in the midst of it. She shouldn't have thought he needed protecting, should have trusted his wisdom, but she hadn't. Her concern for him had outweighed politeness, and she refused to be just his sidekick. She needed him more than he needed her, that was true. He was her anchor, and him being who he was to her, Spike would always have the upper hand. But she'd lost her purpose enough in life, and she knew Spike was her last tie to it. She couldn't lose him, and damn the consequences of saving him.

"Would you have survived if I hadn't?"

He waffled a bit under the intensity of her gaze. He'd already admitted that she had saved him, and there was no taking it back. "No," He admitted.

"Then I'd do it again."


	7. Night Thirty

**NIGHT THIRTY**

The month was finally coming to an end—and the last week had felt the longest of them all. Jade had been so bloody silent, sometimes still for so long, Spike'd worry that she had slipped back. The only indication she was still there was when she was driving, and even then, she did it placidly, not talking—not even humming. She hunted with a dangerous efficiency, and wouldn't so much use her sense of smell if Spike didn't first tell her there were no humans around. She was a robot, moving and acting, but there was nothing else. It reminded Spike, of Buffy. She'd always be pushing everyone away, have a great big hole in her heart she wouldn't allow anyone to fill. But with Buffy, Spike knew her so well that he knew how she worked, what she was thinking. Spike had thought he had that same insight with Jade, but apparently not.

He had no idea what went through her head. He'd observe her at night, while she drove, waiting for some hint as to what was going into her mind. But nothing, nothing but that endless staring, blinking out to the front of the vehicle, her fingers twitching only to steer the wheel. Yet if he asked what was eating her, she'd blink, apologize, but wouldn't change a thing. He didn't get it, and she wouldn't bloody talk about it. He knew she felt guilt, but she shouldn't. She wouldn't make conversation, wouldn't ask Spike a damn thing, probably hoping he'd extend the same courtesy to her. But he'd prodded, as much as he felt obliged to, wasn't much for pushing for communication, but all his attempts had failed.

He'd never seen her like this. She was far from the Jade he had begun to know, the mostly-rational human being who was flawed, and open, and genuinely caring, but now she was competing for the title of brood-master—hoping to dethrone the reigning King, Angel, and Spike didn't like it one bit. But he couldn't break her from it, so they had lapsed in silence.

Then they had gotten to Ola, after ditching the truck a few miles before, Spike carried most of the weight for appearances rather than necessity, though their plan was to avoid humans completely. Couldn't take any more chances. Spike glanced at Jade's expressionless face, who didn't catch his gaze, merely waited. Right, because Spike had to be the bloody hunting dog. He realised in hindsight—quite a few things in hindsight, really, he really should think a bit further ahead than he did, he might have named a specific place in Ola, but the town wasn't all that big, and they needed to find a place the jet could land anyway. Thankfully, for then they could just skirt the boundaries of the town instead of going into it.

"Keep an eye out," Spike uttered an unnecessary order, but they had stewed in silence so long, he damn well felt like saying something. Jade looked at him and nodded, and it just aggravated him more, that his haphazard attempt to get a reaction out of her had failed again. Not that he had tried very hard, but he was running out of ideas.

Not like she was offering a bloody olive branch or anything.

The two vampires sped quickly around the town, glancing through the trees and construction to find a big enough clearing. It was late at night, they still had a couple of hours. Spike was just happy they had made it here in time, although he doubted Angel would make his jet leave exactly on time. And if it had—they could scrounge up a couple of quarters and phone it to come the hell back. Yeah, there were other options than the ones they had chosen, but Spike thought it might have helped, the travelling. Having somewhere to get to, on a very long path with as little people on it as possible. But when they got back to California, they'd have to sit in the cabin in the middle of the forest until Jade could control her urges. More of a bore, less of a purpose, but perhaps it'd be best. Maybe it'd be nice, staying in a place for a while.

Being able to watch some Telly. He was sorely behind on his shows.

"There," Jade said suddenly, though her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper, Spike looked to her and where her slender fingers pointed, catching the same sheen of a plane's hull that she had.

"And, jackpot," Spike replied drily, and they picked up their pace. They were further out from town now, an hour by human standards, just far enough to avoid notice. Spike knew that Angel had gotten some warlock to place a non-tracking spell on the jet that worked on non-allies—first and foremost so ignorant human eyes could stay ignorant, and secondly so that Wolfram & Hart and their peeved off, fractured circle of the dead bloody thorn wouldn't be able to track the plane either—it _had_ come from one of their offices.

They crossed through the trees to the plane. It didn't look very welcoming, no walkway extended from the jet's door, which caused Spike to eye it warily. Dropping his bundle, Spike leaped up easily to the door, wrapping his pale fingers around it, rapping on it a few times. He dropped back to the ground, waiting, not patiently. If he had to tear the door open, he would, but he'd wait. Not for very long, so it was fortunate when he heard an exclamation from within the jet.

"I'm here. Coming!"

Spike glanced up at the fuselage, startled. "Bloody hell," He called up. "Clem, is that you?"

The door opened to reveal a familiar loose-skinned demon.

And a very naked one at that.

"Buggering hell, Clem," Spike shouted. "Put on some sodding clothes, mate."

"Oh—oh! Right. Sorry. I forgot. S-slipped my mind. One moment. Sorry." Clem smiled apologetically, taking all of his numerous and evident sagging skin folds and disappearing once more from view.

Spike shook his head with an exasperated sigh, but despite the rather unfortunate showing, he was glad to see an old friend again. He doubted Angel had come up with that on his own, so it probably had been Buffy who convinced Angel to let Clem pilot the plane. Was good of her.

He glanced at Jade, contrite, and about to apologize. She had averted her gaze already, and her expression was detached. If she was still human, Spike knew enough of her to expect that her cheeks would be a vibrant red. As she was a vampire, the blush didn't happen, but she didn't even seem embarrassed, taking it as calmly as if she had seen Clem fully clothed. That wasn't like her, not one bit.

Most loose skinned demons like Clem were pretty harmless. No thirst for blood or eating eyeballs or anything like that, but they did like devouring emotions. Embarrassment was a big one, which was why loose-skinned demons like Clem loved walking around naked, so they could invoke a reaction. Spike wondered then, and would have to ask Clem if Jade hadn't felt any embarrassment or just hadn't shown it. Not a big difference on paper, but in reality, it bloody mattered.

"You can come on up!" The voice from inside the jet bade them, and Spike only hesitated a second, just in case Clem _hadn't_ gotten dressed, and was trying to have more fun. The door of the jet was open, still no steps extended down, but they didn't need them. Jade moved first, springing with leonine grace into the belly of the plane, out of sight. He was a bit mesmerized by her, certainly not disliking the view from behind, but whereas he might have made a comment that would have rendered a "Pig" from Buffy, and perhaps a blush and a shaking of her head from Jade, but he didn't have a damn idea how she'd react now. So with a sigh of a breath he didn't need, he followed her easily into the hold, as it was a jump a human could probably make, if they weren't unfit or a fat-arse, but it did take a bit of agility to jump easily inside without touching anything. After he landed, he closed the door behind him, bolting it shut.

Jade was already sitting, having picked one of the chairs, her head turned towards the window, and she didn't so much as glance as Spike as he went by, one of their remaining jars of blood clenched in her fingers. That was right, it'd be a long flight. He picked up the remainder of their jars and put it into the small fridge—noting, with some ire, that there wasn't any alcohol in storage at all.

"Wanker," Spike muttered. As if Angel hadn't thought—and decided against it—of giving Spike booze to drink. He'd like to get pissed, particularly on a plane ride, still hadn't gotten used to them, and they were in for the long haul. And he had a feeling he could either sit in brooding silence in the back of the jet or get his ear chattered off in the front.

He decided on the latter—for now. They'd been out of touch for a whole month, be nice to get the low-down from Clem, or as much as the loose-skinned demon knew. And after little over a week of mostly silence from Jade, he needed a change.

He settled down in the cockpit as Clem started up the controls, a whirring, loud sound emitting from the engines.

"So, when did you learn how to fly a bloody plane?" Spike asked, crashing down next to him.

"Oh about a year or so ago."

Spike shot him a sharp look.

"It's not that hard!" Clem responded defensively, blinking his red eyes back apprehensively. "I mean, I took to it really well. And I've been practicing a bit before then. Hey, you're the one that asked for non-human, they had their hands a bit full."

"So we got the luck of the draw, yeah?" Spike said, looking more casual than he felt as he leaned back.

"Oh, sure, definitely. I probably won't crash us."

Spike raised an eyebrow, causing Clem to stammer, "Definitely—definitely won't crash us."

"I'm comforted," Spike said wryly, watching warily as the plane lifted off, maneuvering onto a long, wide and thankfully abandoned dirt road, and then they were off, climbing steadily into the air, and though it was relatively steady, Spike still growled at the numerous bumps and twinges, barking at Clem to keep himself steady.

And then they were up, the fields beneath them quickly disappearing into the big, dark ocean. He shuddered. At least they didn't have to swim the damn thing. He supposed he could get used to planes if he had to, at least they were quicker than boats.

"Buffy was the one that approached me with the deal—just some piloting for Angel from time to time. It's a job, and most of the time it doesn't get too hairy. Just drop them off and get out of dodge." Clem continued to chat happily as his fingers bunglingly gripped at the machinery.

"Every bit of cash helps," Spike answered, not at all condescending towards Clem for doing it for money rather than out of the goodness of his heart. Demons needed to make a living too. Cash bought a very few necessities in the world, whereas being a goody two shoes far from paid off. "Hey, why weren't you at the last mission then—to Bulgaria. Didn't see you piloting that plane."

"Heh, right. Slaypire hybrids, I'm staying far away from that," Clem laughed nervously. "They're crazy scary—no siree, wouldn't want to be anywhere near—"

Spike cleared his throat. "They also have good hearing," Spike added pointedly, and Clem paled visibly.

"Oh!" He cried. "Definitely didn't mean any disrespect to the lady on the plane. Slaypires can be quite nice, and lovely and—"

"Don't overdo it," Spike rolled his eyes. "She probably can't hear us. And if she can, she's not going to rip your throat out, so no need to bloody grovel 'bout it." He ran his fingers through his hair. Hadn't gelled it in a while, the white hair had fallen to softer curls. "And she won't care either way." _At least not right now_ , Spike thought to himself a bit irately. And that was the problem. She wasn't caring about anything these days.

Least not in over a week. No complaints, no praise, nothing but silence.

"But she's quite nice. I mean I haven't talked to her or anything. I just saw her, but as Slaypires go—"

"Yeah, she's one of a bloody kind," Spike muttered. "And what you calling them? Slaypires? 'Zat the new nickname for them then?"

"Xander thought it up," Clem explained excitedly. "I quite like it. Not as much as a mouthful."

 _Better than Slampire_ , Spike admitted silently, although he was a bit peeved that the wanker Xander came up with a better moniker than Spike did. Spike and Xander were rife with the epithet game.

"So how's the vacation for two?" Clem asked slyly after a couple moments of silence. The flight had steadied out somewhat, and Clem leaned back a bit more casually, though Spike kept his fingers near the co-pilot controls just in case—taking no chances with Clem the bloody pilot.

"S'not a vacation," Spike answered gruffly. "She just turned. Needs a bit of a help learning to control her bloodlust an' all that. Made sense it'd be me."

"Oh sure, of course," Clem babbled in agreement. "Of course that's all it is. Nice to see you move on, Spike, I mean, I get how great Buffy is, but—"

"Not like that," Spike interrupted.

"Definitely no shame in it," Clem continued, unabated. "You deserve to be with someone, and as I said, she seems really—"

"I said it's not like that," Spike growled, and Clem cut off for good, abashed. "Just a friend."

"Of course, of course," Clem stammered a bit, not one to endure before Spike's anger, but stay back until it had passed.

"I do have a question for you," Spike asked, keeping his voice hushed as they flew a bit in question. "When you walked stark-naked into view—"

"Really sorry about that," Clem interrupted anxiously.

"Yeah, yeah," Spike said dismissively. "My point is, you feel anything—any emotion from her. Your favorite being embarrassment, isn't it?"

Clem looked thoughtful. "No, not a thing. You are vampires, though," He added, blinking his large red eyes at Spike's sober expression. "It's a bit different for you guys."

"Right," Spike responded, instrospective. He'd forgotten, for a moment. "Just curious."

He was tempted to take a peek behind them, into the belly of the ship. He couldn't hear much over the roar of the engines, and without a heartbeat or breath to listen to, Spike wasn't sure where she was, or if she could hear them. Not like he was incriminating himself or anything, he was just asking a question.

"So, what have I missed?" Spike asked after a while, dodging some of Clem's inane babble as he chattered happily while piloting. "No telly mind you, lack of a good paper I could read too."

"Hmm," Clem scratched at his saggy chin. "Well, let's see. Grudge 2 came out. Scary. Even I was scared. Last week, let's think, Marie Antoinette—"

"I meant a bit more 'mportant-like."

"Well, Jessica returned back to her prostitution, oh, before that, Jared wanted to make it work with Theresa, but of course she's still hung up on Ethan—"

" _What_?" Spike growled. "Not about bloody Passions! I meant the day to day, sodding news, damnit."

"You said important," Clem defended himself, contrite.

"I didn't want no spoilers. I'm behind on episodes," Spike explained indignantly.

"Right, right. Sorry. Good episodes though. Let's see, let's see. Oh, that's right. Vampires, and Slayers too, have been revealed to the world, and your old girlfriend Harmony is in talks for her own vampire shows. Personally, I hope she calls it E-Bites."

Spike stared at him. "You might have led with that."

"I forgot you wouldn't know. Yeah, big thing. News and everything. Been everywhere, I'm surprised you didn't know."

"Don't exactly read Russian, now do I?"

"The world knows about Slayers and Vampires?" The voice was unexpected, quiet and inquisitive. She had been so silent and quick that Spike hadn't even heard her footsteps or felt the vibrations, but suddenly there was Jade, standing behind them. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes focused on Clem, who had jumped at the sudden appearance.

"Crap," Clem swore. "Forgot how quiet and quick you guys are," the plane had jerked a bit, but he steadied it quick enough to avoid Spike's anxious glare—bumpy rides weren't his forte. But Spike's focus had shifted to Jade, who was drawn out by this news.

"Sorry." Jade apologized, but Spike felt it was obligatory, rather than sincere. The vampire paused and then added after some thought, "I'm Jade, by the way. Thank you for flying us."

"My pleasure. No problem at all. Glad you help your kind. That is, uh, you. Glad to help you. And your kind, if there was such a—"

"Clem," Spike paired the stern tone with rolled eyes. "She doesn't need the whole Geneva Convention drill. Now, as you were saying."

"Yes, right. I was talking about, something, yes."

"Humans knowing about vampires," Jade prompted, no sense of impatience in her tone, but Spike knew she felt it, from how she held herself rigidly, her eyes focused on the loose-skinned demon, she was transfixed.

"Well, right. Yeah, so a bunch of vampires were caught on tape, almost killed a celebrity, now they're best friends. Then Harmony jumped on the bandwagon, that girl, bright like the sunshine she'll never see. Very gungho and all that. Insisting that vampires are your friends and all that, those Twilight books getting released are really in your favor—"

"And people are buying it?" Spike didn't know whether to be impressed, indifferent or worried. How would it change, if the everyday human knew about the dark corners? Be a lot less walking at dark, except for the fanatics, and he had seen his share. Been locked in a cellar with a lot of them, drunk them dry to get over being mad as hell from Buffy locking him in there in the first place. Those people had worshipped the vampires.

"Lot of people saying it's hoaxes. Bit of an internet battle. Government's trying not to agree one way or another, but proof keeps popping up, more and more people admitting it. Think there's no disappearing for you this time—out for good." He beamed at Spike, who wasn't sure how to respond.

"And Slayers?" Jade asked tentatively.

"Oh, right," Clem frowned. "Well the thing about everyone loving Harmony, she's painted a good vampire picture, as I said. And plus, they were the first one to come into light—er, metaphorically speaking, of course. So, they kind of put the Slayers in a negative shade, like they're too good for humans, keeping themselves all secret, and Buffy's kept any of her Slayers from responding—protecting their identities, probably, so it's just been the vampire's side so far."

"Right," Spike nodded. "Well not like Vampires are fun-loving bunnies. Can't be too hard to find something against them. If the Slayers want to regain their footing and all that. Or just stay anonymous, do as they've been doing."

Clem shrugged. "Harmony's pretty convincing," Clem admitted. "Even I think she's harmless."

"Well she's not," Spike snapped back. "No vampire is." He saw from the corner of his eye that Jade stiffened, her fingers absentmindedly playing with her short, shorn hair.

"Anything about Slaypires?" Jade asked listlessly, but her blue eyes were intense in their interest. Spike realised then that she used the moniker that Clem had provided, and figured she must have been listening the whole time. Made sense, since she had popped up like a ghost the moment Clem had mentioned something interesting.

"No, no," Clem assured her with a smile he thought was comforting, but Jade looked back at it stone-faced, aloof even. "Haven't heard a thing about them. But I mean, that's a good thing right. Plenty about you vampires anyway, but just general stuff."

"Right. Well, good." Jade said quietly, her expression unreadable, and Spike wasn't sure whether it was because she was relieved that there was no attention drawn to 'her kind', or she was afraid of being labeled as just as one of the vampires. Spike couldn't tell—not now, and he had little time to gauge her reaction, for she muttered a gratitude and disappeared as quickly as she could, back into the belly of the ship, back alone, into that shell of hers that she wouldn't let him crack.


	8. Night Thirty One

**NIGHT THIRTY ONE**

"Bloody finally," Spike said with a mix of exasperation and relief, as he could at last open the jet door, now that they were on solid ground—felt like a long time coming, but it had just been a few hours, timed well enough he supposed, that they could leave the plane as soon as it had landed, with the sun just being tucked away into the horizon. Finally, some good bloody fortune.

He'd finally nodded off for a good while after he had abandoned the cockpit—Clem wouldn't stop chattering, even when Spike's eyelids had begun to drop. Or perhaps that was _why_ they had begun to drop. Clem ran out of substantial information right bloody quick, and then he started listing trivial things, like all the steps of his new wake-up method. The loose demon had been surprised but not hurt that Spike had ducked out of range for that remainder of that droning, and the white-haired vampire had settled back into the belly of the airplane. He'd snuck a look at Jade, who was neither asleep nor active, her half-lidded eyes staring out the window of the jet, and she didn't move, not an inch, not even to take a breath she no longer needed, even though Spike had observed her until he fell asleep.

Nothing like the woman who would have approached him with a deck of cards in her hand, challenge him to a game she often—always—lost, but smile and laugh as if she had won. She was a statue, porcelain and unmoving, a somehow distant and apathetic expression falling upon her usually warm features. Her pale skin was so translucent he could have connected the dots of her freckles from far away, the ones that had always been prominent, and the new ones revealed by her lack of color in her cheeks. Her eyes, normally affectionate and bright, had been as cold as the rest of her, staring out at something in the sky that she deigned to pretend was important, so captivating she could not tear her eyes away. He was half convinced that she had reneged back into her fugue state, but her eyes weren't blank, like there was nothing within them, they were simply distant and uncaring.

Better than a comatose Jade? It was a sodding toss-up.

And now she followed him silently as he dropped easily to the ground, crushing grass beneath his feet. The plane's engines had died, and Clem followed them to the doorway but went no further, standing up in his plane's doorway—this time, thankfully, fully clothed—grinning at them with an unendingly friendly expression, waving his skin-sagging hand away.

"This the end of the road for you, mate?" Spike shouted up at him—perhaps louder than was necessary, Those red eyes looked back down at him as Clem shook his head animatedly.

"Gotta get this plane back, or Angel'll have a fit. Well, not Angel. He'll sic Faith or Illyria on me. Don't know which one of them is worse," the demon added with a frightened shudder, missing Spike's rolled eyes.

"Appreciate the ride," Spike called back amicably, to which Clem regained his smile.

"Anytime buddy. Well not any time. I don't fly _all_ the time. I have a life, you know. And then when I _do_ fly, it's go here Clem, do this Clem, not a whole lot of my own piloting, you know?"

"Right," Spike bit back another eye-roll, his gratitude dying in the wake of Clem's ebullient monologue.

"But I mean, give me a call, might be able to help you out some time. It was nice to meet you," Clem added to Jade's companion, and Spike sought her in his peripherals. She nodded mechanically, rather than coolly, up at the demon, though her expression was amiable.

"And you," Jade returned. "Thank you for the smooth ride," There was all of the politeness and none of her kind sincerity, and Spike knew the difference—hell, he had lived quite a few years in a society dredged in etiquette, he knew the difference. He bit back an irritated growl, though a huff slipped out, finally managing to draw Jade's startled gaze, before her serene expression returned, and she looked no more surprised about it than the clouds in the bloody sky.

"The truck's right over there," Clem pointed out the rather cruddy looking vehicle, but Spike bit back a complaint. It would do—if it moved. From what he remembered, the safe house wasn't too far, and Clem's next words confirmed that. "There's a map inside, shouldn't be more than a hour's drive."

"See you 'round the bend," Spike drawled in finality, and the jet's doors closed to them as the two vampires turned their backs, heading to the rusty red—half rust, half dried paint—truck. It wasn't a smooth ride, but it was short enough, taking them through the more secluded part of California—and there wasn't much, down to the cabin that was to be Jade and Spike's home for the next unforeseeable future. He held a bit of dread at that, if things continued the way they were going, drenched in silence and expressions so made of stone, Spike was nearly convinced that this Jade was an imposter.

But she wasn't. He knew better. He just wished she did.

"Nice place," Jade commented to him as they entered the cabin, and it wasn't. More than a _cabin_ , persay, it was nearly a full made house, two stories, not to mention an extensive basement—nearly a bunker—that held most of the goodies.

"Bit of a gift, this place." Spike returned, more surprised to the fact that she was speaking—she must have been impressed. They graced the smooth wood finished floor. Jade gently rested her supplies—what was left of them, on the ground, while Spike tossed his duffle onto the ground carelessly. "A safehouse, 'case the main places go down. Or if Slayers need some place to crash for the night," He added in thought. Shame that such a nice place was just used as a back-up, but then, if it wasn't, teenage girls would be hanging off of every inch of it, and that was enough to make him shudder in revulsion. Dozens of wanna-be Buffys running around, he could only take so much of the Slayerettes at a time. "They'll steer clear of it while we're using it," He added, to remove any concerns she might have, but she was stepping past him, her face hidden, and maybe she had no concerns to alleviate, what the hell did he know.

"Donated to the Organization and all it stands for," He said the last part somewhat snidely—he wasn't one to bow to _any_ Organization, and even the Slayerettes, with all the good they did, had some gaping flaws as well, and Spike couldn't just oversee that. He didn't believe in it as strongly as the Scoobies did, though he supposed it was necessary. With the sudden influx of Slayers—hundreds, over a thousand called all at the same time, they hadn't exactly the time to construct a concrete formation, they'd done what they could with what they had, and it wasn't like Spike thought up ways to make it better, though he could point at the flaws if anyone asked his opinion. Not that anyone did. "By Angel's good buddy, the millionaire David Nabbit." Spike might curl his lip at the namby pamby Angel and that Investigations side-show he had running for a while, but it had grappled at least one good ally—good to Spike meaning with deep pockets, and it had helped the Organization immensely. Hell, Nabbit had given plenty to charities, wasn't too much of a prod to direct that elsewhere. And it worked out in their favor. Spike's eyes lit up.

What a massive looking telly in that gaming center, and a couch that damn near wrapped around it, waiting to settle Spike to perfection. He saw a contemplative expression on Jade's face, but she wasn't looking at the telly, instead she was drawing breath into her mouth—something she smelled, and Spike frowned, drawing on his own nose to make sure there wasn't a hidden someone in here, but he saw, by where her head turned, that that wasn't the case. She had simply found her dinner, was all.

She stalked to the fridge, opening the door and revealing several jars of labelled blood. There was a note within the box, and she plucked it out, holding it in her fingers as she read it aloud for Spike's benefit. "Delivery every couple of days. You're welcome. Angel." She read in a monotone voice, and Spike could see how her eyes scored over the fancy print, but she released the note dismissively, pushing it to the counter as she pulled a jar free. It took her a few tries to find a mug, in that time, Spike had settled onto the couch cushions and was flipping through the channels, delighted by the fact that there seemed no end to them.

A beep from the microwave went unnoticed by him until he heard Jade's departing footsteps, clutching her hot mug to her chest. Off to disappear then, he deducted with annoyance, to find one of the rooms and claim it as her own, and likely stay up there like a bloody recluse for as long as she was able. Spike sat up sharply, balancing himself on his elbows as he called out to her before she could sneak away, "You want to see the basement? Bloody training ground, it is."

She stopped, one foot on the stairs, debating silently. His Jade, Spike knew, would accept the offer in a second. Wouldn't have made it as far as the stairs. Still, she hadn't ignored him and flitted up at them at a speed that would be stupefying to a human. She paused then, still holding the mug to her, fingers absentmindedly stroking the rim. _There_ was the Jade he remembered, or at least when she fidgeted—that woman had had so many tics as a human he could barely count them all. She played with her hair, chewed on her dried bottom lip, tugged on her earlobe, scratched at her eyebrow, rubbed her fingers together. She was altogether too still as a vampire—even with the lack of breathing part. She didn't _move_ enough, like she was stiff stone.

She turned towards him, blinking at him placidly. "Okay," She answered in a careless tone that ought to annoy him, but he shrugged it off, leading her instead down the stairs, hearing her soft slurp as she downed the animal blood. Good, she'd need the energy. Spike wanted some bloody entertainment, and their reticence wasn't going to cut it. And they had nowhere to go now, nowhere to get to. All the time in the world to beat the hell out of each other—training.

And it was the perfect place for it. Large, open, with an array of weapons at the wall, more supplies than he had seen upstairs, as well as dummies, a sort of gym, and plenty to distract with. What Spike was most taken with, however, was the mat in the middle of the room. Perfect for them.

"Now that the walking bit's over, thought you might like a chance to spar," Spike said, as if he planned this for more than a minute, but really, he was just lucky the safehouse held up for his needs—they could have been easily directed to some shack in the middle of the desert, but he was glad as hell that that wasn't the case. They had the space for it, they were going to get something done. 'Sides, Spike was curious to see how he'd stand next to the Slaypire on his own.

He was wondering if she'd refuse, cite that he wouldn't be able to handle her on his own—and boy, would he have a few choice words to say to _that_ , but she nodded in compliance, dropping her jacket at the floor and removing her shoes, striding onto the mat in her long jeans and wrinkled t-shirt. He supposed he could have given her some time to relax, but once she slunk away into that retreat of hers, he had no idea when she'd pop her head out again. This was as good time as any, and he crept across to meet her head on.

Her eyes glinted, betraying her casual pose, as she watched him with a great deal of concentration. Good. She'd better take him seriously. But she hadn't moved yet, waiting for him to strike first. He remembered the last time he had sparred with her, that determination in her blue gaze, but now there was nothing but patience equanimity, nothing eager or ardent for the fight. Probably since she didn't think it'd be a fair one.

So he struck at her first, all of his flair and no finesse, and she met him head on, without trying to duck back, she caught his fist and he ducked back to avoid her knee, though it grazed his ribs regardless. A impact like that should have hurt, but it only staggered him. This wasn't a Slayer after all, who had naturally greater strength but lesser experience than Spike, Jade had all the strengths—and weaknesses of both species, he shouldn't even be a challenge.

Yet, her blow hadn't hurt. Sure, it had sent him off guard, hurt as much as inhuman strength would, but nothing overwhelming. Not like fighting that Mandy—miss Pretty in Pink, She was crazy in her recklessness, and had the strength and speed to back it up. Then again, having a little witch at her side to make even her disadvantages be bloody moot didn't hurt.

"That all you got?" Spike leered. He couldn't help it. He was one for the snide remarks in battle, and now, in front of an opponent who acted so aloof and goddamn untouchable, well he'd bloody make her livid if that was what it took.

Jade didn't react, and he knew that she was one quick to anger—but also an unparalleled ability to hold her tongue—one that Spike definitely didn't share. She stepped towards him in fluid grace, a blur to human eyes but trackable by Spike's vampire ones. He open palmed her fist, but couldn't clamp down on it before she was suddenly out of his grasp, countering with a elbow to his larynx that threw him back, but again, didn't hurt, just caused him to lurch backwards. Spike bit back a sharp retort as Jade lazily swung her feet back at him, catching him in the stomach and sending him backwards. It was no even playing ground, that was for sure, but she was almost playing with him, these deceptively light blows. For a Slayer, they'd be nothing special, but for the hybrid that she was, it was obvious she was holding back.

He sprung back up in unmatched grace, the poise of one used to getting knocked down—and shaking it off without preamble, landing a swift kick that bounced off of Jade's jaw. Her eyes narrowed, and she did stumble back, as strong as she was, she was still a slim woman, with not enough sturdiness to hold her still.

"I shouldn't even be able to touch you," He told her, meaning to keep it light hearted, a simple spar to get the blood pumping, but she wasn't so much as frustrated, wasting his time by not trying her best. He didn't want to be played with, he wanted to get a feel of her abilities now—he was used to it, between training the Slayerettes and his time as a punchbag with the fully empowered Illyria, the role of the teacher was becoming normal to him. But still, normally he was the one taking the damage or giving it freely, not this loose dance that held no passion in it, or fervor, she looked so stiff and composed, concentrating instead of feeling it.

She sprung forward, lithe and graceful, catching his fist on her shoulder and his knee into her stomach, but she knocked it away and plowed him to the ground.

"You can hit harder than that," He said from his vantage point, managing to dislodge himself with a kick that lifted her clear. "Punches hurt a bit more when you were a Slayer."

She caught herself, landing on a hand and twisting herself until she was back on her feet, bearing him down with a weightier punch. This time, he grunted, feeling it reverberate through his body, his shoulders smacking heavily onto the mat. At his grunt, Jade, who had been in mid-air to topple on top of him paused suddenly, her eyes widening a fraction, pinning him down with much less gusto. "Don't want to hurt you," Jade mumbled infuriatingly, her hands trapping his arms with the strength he had expected, but he struggled against it regardless, shifting his knees beneath her so she had a harder time keeping her hold on him. Her blue eyes blazed back at him, determined now, to keep him down as he was to throw her off.

"Bloody weak, is what that is," Spike scoffed. "Don't 'ave to worry about me breaking. You're not trying at all."

"I don't know my strength yet," Jade defended, looking down at him, her loose strands of hair falling down to her chin, and she shook her mane impatiently to clear her vision.

"Well that's the point of this whole exercise then, isn't it?" Spike returned impatiently, and she hesitated. She wasn't good at staring straight into his eyes, her gaze kept flickering, as if finding them too close, but she didn't give up on her grip. He could barely rock her now, one knee pinning him across his stomach, and the rest bearing down his legs.

"Could break something," Jade said. He opened his mouth to tell her how stupid that was, when she continued hastily, "Don't want to. You're a vampire, you can take it. A human might not. Definitely wouldn't." She shuddered, that expressionless hold of hers breaking, so that Spike could see her worry. Her grip had loosened during her reverie and he bucked up his hips, unbalancing her spread legs, and she slipped to the side. He kicked at her lower thigh, and twisted, throwing her off and bearing down on her instead. She had let him though, nearly limp, gazing back at him with a wary look, and he had released her and bounced back up.

"Broken bones heal," He reminded her as she followed to her feet. "You better be practicing on me. What you can do—all of it, so you know what you need to hold up. You can't kill me—not unless you tear my bloody head off."

"I'll try to avoid that," Jade said, and he might have caught the barest hint of amusement, but her expression was so somber he wasn't sure. She sidestepped his next kick and returned with one of his own, that swept him up with such force he flew backwards, off the mat and onto the nearest wall. He heard a crack—from the wall, rather than his body, and as he scrambled up to his feet, Jade had caught up with him, grabbing him by the wrist and flinging him over her shoulder. He landed on the mat again, this time with a groan, and she was there, fast as if she was teleporting. Not as fast as an old, old vampire might be. She had Slayer abilities, but their speed was mostly reflexes. Their big advantage was their strength, but an elder vampire could catch up with them and surpass them speed-wise. There might be a point where a vampire could be old enough to be faster than Jade. Spike wasn't, and from their fight with Mandy, Angel wasn't either, and he was over two hundred. Strength however, was another matter. Spike found himself comparing it to Illyria's mack truck blows, but even then, he knew Jade was still holding back. Not as much; he found himself reeling from her strength and quickness as she surged forward and reamed him across the cheek with a snap.

They continued that way for an hour until Spike had enough. He was getting hungry now, and a mighty growing need to drink blood to replenish his blood that had dribbled onto the mat. He hadn't gotten many return strikes on Jade now, nothing that remained visible on her at the end of their match.

"Better," Spike growled, wiping up blood from his broken nose, giving a lick to it. He remembered how revolted Buffy would be if she saw that, but Jade remained unfazed. Maybe because she was a vampire now, and finding it repulsing would be somewhat anti-nature, or perhaps she was in one of her indifferent moods again. "Once you got over your fear of damaging the goods." He smirked at that, expecting—maybe even hoping—that it would draw her into some playful banter, but she cocked her head mechanically instead.

"Thanks for the match," She said quietly, stepping into her shoes and pulling onto her jacket. It hadn't reset her at all, she was as distant as ever, tucking some of her loose hair out of her way, no sweat or blood sticking in it, just wild and a bit static.

"Yeah," He returned brusquely, experimental smile gone. He pursed his lips in an unhappy expression, speaking now to her back as she stepped from the basement and back up the stairs. He wanted to say something to call her back, to challenge her maybe, but so far it had just fallen on uncaring ears. And what the hell would he say anyway? He wasn't one for the speeches. He observed enough, but deep empathy wasn't him. All he could do was try to break her out of that shell, and the only way he knew was violence. "Didn't do any good, did it?" He muttered, to himself, as Jade left him to be alone.

Hadn't made a difference at all.


	9. Night Thirty Five

NIGHT THIRTY FIVE

"How much more sulking are you going to be doing?" Spike called raucously at the figure as she crept towards the fridge. It was just after morning, and he was still lounging on the couch—had slept there after watching some telly. He pulled on his shirt, peering over the edge of the sofa to see her, in track pants and a long t-shirt, her hair mussed and uncombed. A red glaze to her eyes made him think that she hadn't been sleeping. She froze with one hand on the fridge door and one latching around a jar—it had just been refilled yesterday by a rather succinct Lister clan demon who had glanced nervously around the building before delivering the shipment and fled quite quickly. No backbone in those Lister clans, but they were harmless. And made Spike feel intimidating for once, which was a nice change. But then it was back to just Jade and him, and she was keeping up her four walls rather constantly—and, obvious to him, she was avoiding him. He'd only gotten her back on the mat once again, and it had been the same thing, punching him lightly until he goaded her into harder strikes, and then she'd leave without barely more than a couple words.

But he'd had about enough of that.

"Sulking?" Jade echoed, closing the fridge and holding the jar in her hands.

"Yeah. Bloody sulking. Brooding, feeling sorry for yourself, sound familiar?" Spike drawled, springing over the couch and into the kitchen, cutting down her space. She eyed him nearing her warily. A look of hurt flashed over her face at his brusqueness, but he could only be gladded by it. _Finally_ , he thought. _Feeling something_ , even if it was being pained by his words, it was a damn start. "Missing your comatose days are you? Let me tell you, that was a hoot. Bloody five stars, that was. And this, I don't even know where to begin."

She crept back unconsciously, her lower back pressing into the counter, fluttering uncertainly in the brunt of his anger. And he _was_ angry. No more playing the sympathetic fellow—if he even had, if he had to make her feel like crap to get over this black bloody cloud over her head, he'd do it. She wasn't like this, all cold and unemotionless, and he refused to believe it was a side-effect of turning into a vampire. She was better than this, better than him, and he'd damn well make her see it. "I don't—" She began, nervously flicking at her bottom lip with her tongue.

"Get your head out of your arse," Spike snapped irritably. "You don't know how damn lucky you are."

She stared at him, her eyes widened in disbelief. "Lucky?" She echoed hollowly.

"Yeah, that's bloody right." He licked his bottom lip, rife with energy. He'd gone this far, he wasn't backing off now. Wasn't one to hold in his thoughts for too long, that was for sure. Even if she was staring at him with the raw fear of a trapped animal. "When the human dies, we get to go, right? Get to go off into our little wonderland or wherever the dead go, and ignorant as little babies. Then all a sudden, poof, here comes our soul back in our body, and we get a damn slideshow of all the things we've been up to while we were celebrating in the land of the dead. We get to remember all the blood on our mouths, the looks of horror, the screams, the begging. Me and Angel, we didn't get our soul back untainted. You though, you got a bloody fresh new start, and you're sodding upset about it."

She narrowed her eyes, mouth open as she floundered tentatively. "Spike, I almost killed—"

"Bloody almost!" He interrupted. "Almost. But you sodding didn't, did you? You stopped. And that's damn well hard for a bloody fledgling, and you don't care about that, do you."

"He was a child!" She burst out. "I would never. If I was human, I would never—"

"But you're not human. You're a bloody vampire now. And the only one who gets a clean slate from the start."

She closed her eyes briefly. "I know. I know I'm not human." She said it as a barest whisper, almost to herself more than to anyone else, but Spike heard it, heard the catch in her voice. "A human doesn't attack a little child."

"You _stopped_ ," He insisted. She wasn't getting it, just burying herself in guilt she didn't deserve to feel, all wrapped in it like a sodding cocoon, and she wasn't listening to him, not one bit, so caught up in her own shame.

"Because of you!" Jade snapped back, vehement, all the vitality that he had expected from her. She had set the jar on the counter, stepping up to Spike so that they were nearly chest to chest, and he looked down at her, the same height distance between him and Buffy. So small, the both of them were, with all the energy in the world. Except Jade had been tucking it away, retreating instead of fighting. "You told me to stop. If you hadn't—"

"I wasn't even there," He scoffed. "I couldn't reach you in time. Yeah, I yelled, but you chose to bloody listen."

"I just—" She shook her head uncertainly. "I don't know," She gasped out. "I don't know what I'm supposed—" She stepped to move past him, but he clamped down on her wrist like a manacle, stopping her.

"Don't you run from this," He barked at her, voice cold, and she flinched under the anger of his gaze.

"I don't know what you want me to do," Her voice cracked with despair. "I don't know how I'm supposed to feel."

" _Something,"_ Spike growled. "Pretending like you don't is a bloody lie. Dragging yourself around like you're a bloody robot."

"Well I don't know what I am!" Her bottom lip trembled on the last word. "I don't want to be this."

"Being a vampire that terrible to you, is it?" Spike asked callously, his eyes glinting. So that was it, then? The thought of being a vampire was just so repulsing to her? Then where did that leave him? He was no human, didn't pretend to be. He was a vampire through and through and he was bloody fine with that. That was who he was and he wouldn't sodding apologize for it, not in the slightest.

She shrank back. "Yes. No—not that. Not you. I just… I feel like I failed. I'm a Slayer—I'm supposed to kill vampires, and I became one. It's like… I'm a terrible thing." She ran her fingers through her hair, messing it up further, still shaking her head with barely contained emotion, her eyes shining with tears that hadn't been shed. "I mean—I _was_ a Slayer. And now I'm not. I'm… worse. And I have it all, but I don't. I—" She let out a frustrated groan. "I think like a human, but I'm not. I miss… I miss the sun, I miss—I miss my _blush,_ and I always hated it, but it's gone, and I can pretend to be feeling whatever I want, no-one will know the difference. I miss being warm, and feeling the cold, and I was always cold, shivering, and now… And I miss my—my heartbeat. I miss having a heartbeat. Being alive. Being a Slayer meant never being normal, but at least I was human. Now… I'm not. Now the only thing I know I want is blood. It wrecks my concentration like nothing else has, this hunger that just takes over me. Made me almost hurt someone I as a Slayer, never would have." Her words dropped off, and she stood before him, a huge mixture of emotions, the forefront being embarrassment, and a helpless vulnerability.

He looked at her, seeing her as young as she really was, for only the second time, the first being when he had seen her quiver before the sight of her sister again, rife with her childhood terrors, and now, before him, he'd asked her to let it go, and she had, and she was shaking, uncertain, and his contempt had faded. Instead, there was compassion, a tenderness for her. He looked at his Slayer-turned-vampire, who glanced back, her gaze so dejected and lost, and he increased his grip on her tiny wrist, pulling her forward, towards him. She followed without resistance, like a doll.

"Come with me," He said.

* * *

She could have resisted him, could have pulled back, even if his grip was like steel and his strength was unyielding, he dragged her from the kitchen, her feet following him mechanically, staring at the back of his head as he didn't look back, leading her up the stairs. God, why had she said all those things? Her mouth felt dry. It had been inane babble, words spewing from her that barely portrayed how she felt. Only the barest percentage of it. She couldn't explain. Couldn't explain the revulsion she had for herself, the confusion. How much of a difference it was, all at once. How careful she had to be, with everything, how she had broken her bed during her sleep with thrashings she was used to, but the strength she hadn't been, and so she had rolled to the floor so that her tossing and turning wouldn't break anything. She had shattered the last two of the five jars out of the kitchen when she tried to take the lid off, and she had left her blinds up one morning and had reacted in fire, huddling alone in the corner of the room in the shadows until she had healed, and the blistering had gone down. And she felt so detached, so cold, with the only heat coming from the warmth of the blood she consumed, and so she'd turn it up so hot so she could feel warm for a while. She wasn't affected by the cold, didn't shiver like she would have, but she felt it. Cold like a corpse.

And she didn't want to see Spike, because she knew he was angry with her. Angry that she was putting up her walls, but she couldn't pretend to smile or laugh, or that she felt anything but a deep, unending shame, disgusted with herself. She was a vampire, controlled entirely by her lust for blood. Sometimes it woke her up in the middle of the morning, and so she'd creep down to the fridge to fulfill her hunger, and that was how Spike had found her this morning. Spike. She felt terrible, the way she had treated him, but she just wanted to push and push him away, so he wouldn't be near her while she felt like this, so she wouldn't drag him into the abyss.

And he had confronted her, and she shouldn't be surprised, or resist it, because she had kept him at bay since she had woken from her coma, and she had no doubt he was 'bloody tired of it'. But she didn't know how to say the right thing, or even what that was. She was confused and lost, and she didn't want to have to depend on anyone, especially not Spike. Even if he was nearly the only thing in this world, they were partners. Equal. She didn't want to be a burden, not to him. She wanted him to have respect for her, but all she had warranted was his anger.

They clambered up the stairs in silence, and though Jade hadn't wholly explored the house, she thought there was little up there but bedrooms and a bathroom, but she didn't voice her thoughts, allowing herself to be steered into the bathroom with some confusion. He released her then, leaving her to stand on the tiled floor as he jerked over to the large shower. The bathroom on this floor had no bath, but the shower was massive enough—at least to Jade, who was used to the miniscule kind, and barely any during their last month. She had used it excessively the last couple of days, to make up for the cold stream baths that hadn't been as nearly as satisfying. But as therapeutic as it was, having the warm water wash down on her, she could only stay in there so long, and there had been nothing to do in the shower but think.

She stared at his back as he swiftly turned the dial, causing water to rush out, followed quickly enough by a rush of steam. Hot, then. And quicker to get hot water than her home in Haven had been.

She had stayed in silence long enough. Rubbing her wrist absentmindedly, as it stung where he had grabbed it, she voiced her confusion. "What—"

He turned back to her with vehemence, latching onto her arm again and tugging her towards him. "Get in the shower," He demanded of her, his expression unyielding. She could have resisted, again, could have easily pulled out of his grasp and knocked him away, but she didn't want to. Didn't want to damage her fragile friendship with Spike any more than she had, didn't want to create an irreparable hole after all he had done for her.

She took a steadying breath she didn't need and followed him in. The shower water washed down on them both, soaking her clothes through. With Spike, she couldn't help but notice how his damp clothes hugged his figure, embellishing his muscular chest and shoulders, and the bulge in his arm from flexing his muscle to pull her in.

"Spike," Jade said, shaking her head to detain the water droplets falling into her mouth, tucking back her errant hair with her free hand, which started frizzy and became more manageable as the water drenched them both. "Why—"

"Shut up," He interrupted her, roughly. "Bloody trust me for a mo."

She fell into the shocked silence that he bid of her. He blocked some of the spray, standing in front of her, and over her, though he leaned to the side, his shoulder resting against the shower's tiled wall, as if he was waiting for something. Then he shifted, his hand still grasping Jade's arm, but now it changed, instead of being a tight, imprisoning grip, his thumb began to move across her smooth skin in an gesture that was so unfamiliar to Jade she released slowly that it was a caress. Frozen with an odd fascination, she watched as his hand massaged her arm almost tenderly, directing her hands together as he continued to rub the skin. Steam was rising up from the water that beat down on the both of them, the hot water that would be scalding to her if she was human, but it warranted no discomfort other than a slight sting.

"Warm," Spike said, and his voice had lost its discordant edge, lower and softer as his free hand directed her fingers to feel her arm. She opened her mouth to answer him, still confused as his hands continued to stroke her now warm skin. "Warm," he repeated, his bright blue eyes meeting her own. "Like a human." If she still had need to breathe, she would have found it hard at that moment, so shocked she was, she barely noticed his hands dropping from her arms to rise up to her cheeks. He waited for her to push him away, but she was frozen in explicit curiosity, and his ministrations continued on her cheeks, rougher in their attentions as he massaged under the cheekbone, giving a pinch to the skin before dropping his hands back down. "Got a blush now," he explained.

"You don't have to…" Jade felt compelled to tell him, even as she was filled to the brim with bittersweet gratitude, unprepared for the avalanche of empathy coming from him.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, serious, his eyes meeting hers again. This time he had asked for it, instead of demanding it, his voice soft as he looked her in the eyes without blinking. She nodded, and he seemed to prepare himself, stiff as a statue for a moment before she felt his hand rest on her torso, thumb curling under her soaked t-shirt. She felt herself flinch, so surprised she was by the contact, and he froze immediately, his eyes searching hers.

 _Do I trust him?_ She thought to herself, knowing that it was one of the very few things she could be certain about, particularly now. How could she not, after the times they've saved each others' lives—the times he had saved her life? And now, in her unlife, he had stuck with her without question, with an undeniable loyalty she couldn't deny. That's all they had, little history, little personal knowledge, but they had trust. So while he hesitated, she gave him another affirming nod, and he hesitated then, of his own accord, his eyes burning into hers when he whispered, below the roar of the water but enough to be heard by her ears, "Don't move."

His fingers crept up to her skin, just as unusually warm, just as burning as the rest of her, travelling to the right of her navel. He was deliberately slow, his knuckles brushing her taut torso. She was frozen, trapped between him and the tiled wall. She could fight back, but she wouldn't, let him lead. She didn't know what she had expected—she certainly didn't expect this.

He had been so tender, and then, bracing her still with his other hand wrapped around her shoulder, he suddenly struck his hand forward with such force, all Jade could feel was a blinding pain. She gasped, her hands rising up to defend herself, as a agony sunk through her, through her chest, through her body, so vivid and immobilizing she couldn't pinpoint it, and she should have flung Spike back with all her mighty strength—as her reflexes were telling her to do, but instead, she was listening to the mantra he was driving into her ear, "It's alright. It's alright, it's alright."

"Spike. What—" She gasped out wretchedly, realising then that his fist had plunged _into_ her stomach, up into her ribcage. _Is he going to kill me_? She wondered then, if it had been an elaborate trick, for her to lower her defences, so he could earn her trust and kill her. She could still throw him off of her, rip off his head for good measure, kill him before he killed her. She could heal this, but the pain was blinding, and her heart was vulnerable. He could kill her.

 _Do you trust me?_ His words again, reminding her he had had many opportunities in the past. So trust him. She did.

"Won't kill you," He promised her, his free hand travelling up her shoulder to prop up her jaw, lifting it to him so she had to stare into his eyes. "What am I doing?" He murmured, gently almost.

"You… punched a hole…" Technically, it was just his fingers, puncturing into her stomach, curling up into her body. If she could have looked down, she would see the crimson blood staining the water red.

"What is my hand doing?" He prompted her. "Come on, Bloody Mary. It's pain, but you won't die from it." His words were critical, but his tone was soothing, the hand on her jaw brushing away damp strands from her cheek.

"It's—" Then she realised. His fingers had wormed their way through her, to her heart. His hand was literally holding her heart in his hand. "My heart." There was a reverberation she could barely feel through the agony, but she could, his hand moving, ever so slightly.

"What do you hear?" He asked her, his face close to hers.

 _What do I hear?_ She thought wildly. God, it was hard to focus, she heard everything. The shower, their unnecessary pants of breath, and then—

"Oh," She murmured. Thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump. "My heartbeat," Jade whispered, her throat closing up with the influx of emotion she felt from hearing that tiny, tiny sound that was somehow so comforting. Through the haze of pain, she could feel Spike's hand working at her heart, manipulating it so that it she had a relatively normal heartbeat. "I have a heartbeat," She repeated, her eyes filling with tears, the tears she hadn't let shed yet as she gaze with awe up at him, at Spike. She never would have expected such a compassionate act from him. His face was set sternly, but his eyes shone back at her with the same vehemence.

"You're a demon," Spike stated matter-of-factly. "Because I have my bloody hand in your chest and you won't die from it. You're the sodding undead, and nothin' to change about that. But you're human, luv." He added, as her face fell. "You're human, because you're bloody smiling at the fact you have a heartbeat."

And she was. She hadn't realised, but her lips had spread into a small, but undeniable smile, bittersweet, ravaged with remorse and relief and happiness, but there.

"You're not one thing, you never were. You're a Slayer. You've always had a bit of the unnatural in you. Doesn't make you wrong." He gave her heart one last gentle squeeze, and then pulled his hand from her stomach, catching Jade as she fell into his shoulders, holding her up until he could lean her back against the wall and she could stay there of her own accord. The blood continued to pour, drained away by the water, and God, it still hurt, but now the intruder was gone, it could heal. Her heartbeat was absent, again, but at the moment, it didn't matter. All that mattered was Spike speaking.

"You're no less than you were," He spoke with an undeniable vehemence, his eyes blazing into hers. "No bloody less."

"I—" Whatever she had been about to say was interrupted by a sob, welling up in her chest, and it hurt to cry—literally and figuratively, but it was about time. She hadn't cried since she had died but God knew she needed to. And now the tears trickled down her cheek, even as they were picked up and washed away with the water, and she couldn't stop them, even if she tried, and maybe it was time to stop fighting it. Good cry and bad, the contentment mixing with the grief, all happy and sad at the same time.

"You're just different, luv." Spike promised her, squeezing one of her hands as he had done her heart. "But that good in you, it's still there. Nothing gone about it. Nothing to feel shame about. You are bloody _good_."

"Thank you," She breathed in between the sobs that shook her shoulders.. Not for anything specific—there were too many things to name now. Taking care of her, not giving up on her, making her feel like a human again—or that she never stopped being one. But she didn't have to elaborate, he accepted it all. Didn't need another word to pass through her lips—nor did one pass through his as he took her gingerly into his arms, and the two of them sank to the shower floor together. She cried, and he held her, the water pouring down on them until it was icy cold, and they stayed there for a long time after.


	10. Night Forty One

**AN:** _Thank you for the comments on the last chapter. I've had that scene in my head for a very very long time, and I'm glad to finally get a chance to write it. Part of the reason I made this little in-between short was for that scene alone, although I've enjoyed other parts of it too. We're about halfway, perhaps less than it, to the end of this accompaniment, and then return to the main story. Most of these chapters remaining will be fluffy and shorter, just little scenes I want to include. Thank you for your patience and your continued reading. Hope you continue to enjoy!_

NIGHT FORTY-ONE

He taught her how to fly. From her zest in watching X-Men: The Last Stand, he had found out she was an avid superhero fan—fitting, since she was a bloody superhero herself—with the whole Slayer git-up and all. Instead of just staring wonderingly at the comic book pages thinking about what she could be she had a damn pretty selection of it. There were a reason that Slayers struck fear into the heart of many of a vampire—and had captivated Spike for over a century. Though Spike was more interested in the allure of their blood and the intricacy of their liveliness rather than their inhuman strength. He liked their spirit, the ones who walked on the edge of death and turned towards it freely—he knew that well enough by now. Slayers had always enticed him, from the moment he'd been told about them, although he had to admit, the novelty had worn off a tad with the calling of so bloody many. Basically a high school fundamental now, with all of the teenager girls revelling in their newfound strength, when before, all they would have had was the potential, and there would just be one.

To Spike, there still was just one Slayer, just Buffy. None of the others had mattered, far too trivial for him to pay the slightest heed. Until Jade. Catching his eye by just not acting like a Slayer, like she had inherited some great power that was the cause of her worth, but a brawler, one's whose self-worth was bloody low enough she didn't care about preserving herself. Made her far from reckless somehow, a worthy foe and a worthier ally. He couldn't quite label her as anything, whenever he had her figured out, she surprised him, turning another leaf or flipping the coin or whatever bloody saying there was, it all meant the same. There were new parts of her he discovered constantly, and he found, with some surprise, that there were none he loathed. Aloof and comatose Jade had come close, but even then, it seemed wan in comparison to the good parts.

She had been drawing in front of the telly—sometimes she even look at the sketches now. Spike had done a fair few sketching himself, primarily of Buffy, when his obsession had really taken off, he'd gone on a tangent, even creating a dummy version of the blonde Slayer, as well as many, many scribblings of her. Yeah, she hadn't been too fond of that when she'd found out. Still made Spike wince to think about.

 _The only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious_. Yeah, would be a while since he forgot about that one, though technically, she had been wrong. Sort of. He still wasn't with her, not really, never had been, which was a bit of a depressing thought, but hell, Buffy wasn't here, so he didn't owe her any errant thoughts. What was important was what he was doing, so on a day when Jade was mindlessly scribbling more superheroes—hell, she could yammer about them all for hours if she got going, which was her favorite, talking complete circles around Spike about all these oddly named 'mutants', but it made her happy to 'geek out' about it, so he let her.

But she was having one of those days with that distant look in her eye, and the sun had just gone down, so he'd had an idea.

"Come with me for a mo, yeah?" He'd said to her, and she had looked up immediately from her scribblings, her fingers smudged with graphite from her pencils, some of which she unknowingly smudged across her forehead as she brushed back her hair, leaving a darker mark on her otherwise alabaster skin. He didn't tell her, finding the smudge a bit endearing. She was far from put together, wasn't she. Mussed hair and rumpled clothes were a part of her routine, and he preferred. Didn't need to be so done up all the time, every hair in place, looking down on Spike like he was no good. If there was one thing Jade didn't seem capable of was snobbery, condescension. And he got it a lot. Particularly from the Scoobies, always looking down on him because he was vermin in their eyes, since he drank blood and was dead. And maybe just because they didn't like him very much, but still, favorite pastime for them was hate the Spike or kick the Spike, or whatever fit their fantasy at the time.

"Yeah, okay," She had said, following him without further questioning. That was another thing he liked about her, she didn't befuddle him with too many questions, just, for the most part, waited for it to be revealed. They had stepped into the outside, where the dark of the sky was only just tinted with violet, the hint of a fallen sun. He watched as she glanced wistfully towards where the sun had sunk into the horizon, but her gaze was bright enough, not tinged with remorse as it was sometimes, faithfully following him for a few minutes.

It had taken him a couple minutes to find the highest point, the tallest tree, stopping in front of the chosen cluster. "Here," He told her, and she glanced around, puzzled.

"What's here?" She asked.

"What was your favorite superhero again? That red-head?"

Her lips curled into a smile as her nose wrinkled. "That's Jean Grey. She's not my favorite," She said that part very quickly, as if it was offensive or something, "I just like the telekinesis; it's the best power."

"Then what was that bit you said about flying?" Spike interjected, confused himself.

Jade shook her head a little, the amused smile still on her face. "Well with telekinesis you can move other things _and_ yourself. What beats that?"

"Bloody hell," Spike said. "Can't get your little nerdy fetishes straight. All that comic book stuff, way too much thinkin' bout some other universe."

Jade shrugged helplessly. "So why are we out here?" She asked, snapping back to business.

He fixed her with his blue gaze. "You're going to fly."

She blinked back at him seriously. "What?" She glanced around her again, perhaps looking for some hidden bungee-cord, something to launch her into the sky, but no, this was all her. Mostly her. It wasn't flying in the perfect sense, but it was something that no human could do, and only the oldest of vampires would have enough strength to begin to try. It would be leaping, high into the sky, and falling back down. Something trivial, something a bit beyond Spike, but he knew she'd be fascinated with it. Something to perfect, something to enjoy, something that only she could do now, and never could before.

"Not flyin' in the rightest of sense, but close 'nuf." He explained. "You got all the leaping capabilities of a Slayer and a Vampire, thought you'd like to try it out. You shoot yourself up high, catch yourself on the way down."

She looked skeptical. "Flying?" She echoed again, a light frown on her face. "Yeah, I'll try it." She said without much certainty, obviously doing it to humor him. Fine with him, 'least she was giving it a go.

"Good," He said. "Now climb to that top of the tree, 'igh as you can go, pick a direction and leap to it, I'll follow you from below."

"You're not coming up with me?" Jade said it more as a side comment, looking up at the trees with interest.

"No," Spike answered. "Can't leap as far as you. Plus, I'm no climbing ape."

Jade looked at him, uncharacteristically playful as she stuck her tongue out at him before glancing back up at her target. "Alright. Time for monkey to fly."

"Flying," Jade muttered to herself as she lifted herself to the next branch, ignoring Spike's jeers about her slowness. It was a _pine_ tree after all, not the most fun. She felt pine needles by the dozen falling into her hair, her clothes, scratching her skin. It didn't hurt and the stings didn't linger, but it was annoying. "I thought it'd be a bit easier than this," she muttered to herself as she flung herself up a couple more meters.

"Less yammering, more climbing," came Spike's less than helpful comment from down below.

Sure, it'd probably be worth it when she reached the top, but right now, it was a pain. But Spike had asked her to try, and refusing him outright hadn't even occurred to her. And well, she was curious

Could she really fly? It intrigued her. She always wanted to know what it felt like. As a Slayer, she could boast pretty high jumps, but nothing in the range of an elder vampire, and now, she was the two mixed together. Stronger than both, she could fly higher than both right?

With that thought, she flung herself another couple of meters, as near to the top as she was going to make it. The tree swayed under her weight, as inconsequential as it was on the ground, an extra hundred pounds up here was bound to shake things up a little. She curled an arm around the trunk to steady herself, her feet set on one of the more sturdier branches. Her ribs twinged with pain as she stretched the muscle, not quite healed from when Spike had reached into her chest to hold her heart. But she healed faster now than she had in life, and the fact that she couldn't die from it, well, she hadn't complained. Not to mention, it was _worth_ it, those seconds of having her heartbeat to this pain that was gradually lessening. She was grateful, beyond grateful for what he had done, but she knew better than to ask again. Probably for the best anyway.

She glanced down, but she couldn't see Spike through the foliage any more, the vision of him clad in his black duster and his albino white hair was lost to her now. But she knew he was there, even if she couldn't hear his heartbeat.

There were a lot of things she _could_ hear from up here, all the numerous wildlife that she hadn't been hunting since the much more handy supply that was delivered straight to their fridge. And she just liked it better, not having to kill them herself, though she knew whether or not she was doing it herself, they still died. Terrible as it was, better animals than humans. Their blood satiated her, and she needed that. She wouldn't mourn the little pots of blood as she drank them, but she would be gladdened that she didn't need to do it herself.

So she heard the little heartbeats without wanting to end them, their coos and hoots, the screeches in the night. Jade surveyed them as well as she could without vamp face, her blue eyes looking down placidly. Least she wasn't afraid of height any more, Penelope had hammered that out of Jade early on. 'What if you had to fight a vampire high up?' There had been no excuses for that that would satisfy Pen, so Jade had to learn to deal with her fear pretty quickly. Now, she didn't even feel so much as quaky, just unsettled as she leaned into the tree.

"You goin' to sit up there all night?" Called a voice, cranky and ever persistent.

Jade smiled despite the tone. He was impatient, eager to see the show, whatever it would be. Guess it was time to try. She didn't have a great deal of confidence in it, but she'd at least 'give it a go'.

She tensed her muscles, gathering up all her strength of her legs, swaying with the tree until she released the energy, shooting herself up like a cannon, and off she went into the sky.

First, she was terrified. There was too much sensory information, she didn't know where was up, and everything was dark. The hoots and cries of animals all around her as she sailed, precariously up. She even closed her eyes for a moment, as her stomach twisted traitorously. Hell, she had used to get motion sickness from car rides, and this was so much motion all at once.

And then she opened her eyes. Felt the wind slice by her, and truly saw how high up she was. She went up, up, up, and then hit the peak. If she was terrified falling would be worse, the fear was over in a moment, for she felt nothing but exhilaration, animal blood rushing through her veins, but rushing all the same, and if she had a heartbeat, it would be a thrum. As it was, she felt excitement, a true thrill, as she gazed about the world around her. It was beautiful, the stars in the sky, without any technology or smog in the way. And then, the tree tops that constantly rose to meet her.

She was flying. Well, mostly, falling with grace. On her way back down, she glanced at the scene around her, having many thoughts of the beauty of it, and only one treacherous thought of how more breathtaking it would be if the sun was in the sky too. But it was only for a moment, instead, the moon was shining down on her, just as celestial, just as gleaming.

She fell towards the earth. It wasn't immediate, gravity bore her down, but the height in which she had jumped upwards, and the lightness of her body kept it from going too quickly. But she did eventually breach the tree tops, and it was there that it got a bit tricky. Twisting her body to make sure she didn't hit the branches too high up, or crash into the trunks, she stopped herself about halfway down. She was half-afraid she was going to skewer herself on a branch, but when the time came to it, all it took was focus. As if the world slowed down, she could reach out with a speed that was unalterably inhuman, gripping the branches and using them to bring herself to a halt, her feet scoring against the tree's trunk. The tree shook with the impact, causing more pine needles to fall into her hair, but Jade didn't care.

She was laughing, and that was how Spike found her, as he burst through the undergrowth, and she was leaning against a tree, having just landed completely. Her shoulders shook, not with unnecessary breaths or sobs, but with a laughter that wouldn't stop.

"Bloody hell," Spike said in a pant. "Went a lot further than I thought you would—" He regarded her uncontrollable chuckles. "You shoot off your rocker during that time as well?"

She beamed then, grinning as she slowly brought her laughter to a stop, smiling widely back at Spike instead. He seemed a bit off-kilter by her grin, his eyes flashing uncertainly with an emotion she couldn't ascertain. "Spike," Jade said in a trailing-off laugh. "I flew." Her eyes shone with intensity, and through the shadows of the night, she could see that Spike was pleased too.

"Like a damn bird, too," He said, almost proudly. "Hell of a time keeping up to you."

"I can fly," Jade continued to say, almost dreamily, her jaw hurting from the smile on her face.

"Yeah," Spike agreed complacently. "You can fly." Not quite flying, but leaping extraordinary lengths, neither of them were too concerned about the facts, Jade dazedly sweeping the mess of pine-needles from her hair, feeling her cheeks, which were both cold as well as red, from the wind's whipping kiss.

"Just as good as those Mr. X and Magnet you like so much," Spike said on the way home.

"It's Magneto and Professor X," Jade corrected him automatically, smiling broadly.

"Bloody close enough."


	11. Night Forty Five

NIGHT FORTY FIVE

It took her a while to work up the courage to ask him to promise.

They were sitting on the back porch of the cabin. The last delivery of blood had also come with some cigarettes—likely orchestrated by Spike, although there was still no alcohol to come in with the delivery, despite his attempts of intimidation and smooth-talking to the mostly listless delivery demon. Wasn't very successful, for the most part, but they had smokes now, to which Spike heartily approved of, and Jade was content. She didn't care much either way, it had never been an addiction to her, it had started out as a healthy rebellion when she was younger, some way to garner her mother's attention that she never procured, and Bennett had indulged her, or perhaps he had started it, it was hard to tell where their schemes began and ended. They had been so close, her and Bennett. Best friends ever before they were lovers, she missed him still. She hadn't thought about him, not recently, though she should have, with all this time alone, with only Spike for company.

But Spike was more than present, he dominated everything, her thoughts, her time. And there was something she really enjoyed about being here, with little worry, no job, no money to think of, just blood and TV and isolation. There was nothing to fight, nothing to do, really, and with the lack of a computer—though there was a Xbox hooked up to the TV—she should have been bored out of her mind. But she wasn't. She was content. More than content, she was happy to be here, just Spike and her. Though there were certainly activities that they did alone, Jade's flying, and whatever Spike did during that time, they did plenty together, though it was mostly training, playing cards and watching TV. Mundane habits, but they kept her busy.

For now. She knew they couldn't stay up here forever, though the isolation was nice. There were other cabins around, other people, especially near the water, but since they didn't go out in the day, they didn't have to worry much about running into them. And when Jade flew, at night, she went into the thicker parts of the forest where there were even less chances to run into someone. Sometimes, Spike followed her along the forest floor, but not always. He was trying to get her to learn that as much as she was comforted by his presence, the only one that could really stop her was herself. Even in their fights, Spike could hold out but he couldn't win. With the strength of Slayers already being more than that of an average vampire, and her new vampire strength as well, he likened her mammoth strength to something untenable. He had experience, and knowledge about fighting she didn't, but her raw power and speed won over. Still, there was much to learn anyway, from him, ways to get better, and she did so without condescension. Wasn't possible for her to look down on Spike, even for a moment.

They were sitting in a comfortable silence, while the sky had begun to take a lighter tone. Her vampiric sense of time wasn't really developed yet, though she was starting to have a sense when the sun was up, even when she couldn't see it. But Spike, he could tell, sometimes only minutes from the mark, when it would rise again. He was particularly careful with her, being such a young vampire, she couldn't take the sunlight like he could. Couple of seconds would result in her being on fire, and a bit more than that…

She wondered what it would be like to be dust, if it hurt at all. It was so strange to think that she could just explode, everything broken down into little particles, no flesh or hair or anything remaining. Not even a trace. Just dust. Like it had been with Bennett. It had been astonishing, even though he hadn't been the first vampire she had ever dusted. He had been the first she had known. She knew him as a human, every inch, every freckle, every scar, and the fact that he had just vaporized into nothing had struck her as hard as the fact she had done it herself. She remembered trying to scrape up his remains, the dust clinging to her fingertips. She had been distraught then. The only person she would have come to for comfort was gone. So she had gone to her sister, unaware of Pen's involvement, and she had taken any and all training that Pen had told her to do. Hoped being a Slayer would erase the pain, but that had been a betrayal too. She hadn't known what to do after that. Lost the love of her life, and lost her purpose, and she was just lost. Gone to Haven, just a short term plan, with no thought to future, and she didn't care about it either.

Until Spike, really. The Slayer's Organization could be a purpose, she supposed, if she let it, but she hadn't been interested in it, being part of a hive. She was better on her own, involving others just got them killed. Until Spike, whose resilience surpassed even that of Slayers. The whole already dead mortality thing. He was what changed. He made her care again, made her give a damn, made her want to try. He was the purpose for her, and she wouldn't tell him that. Probably scare him off, and she couldn't blame him. The intensity of what she felt scared her too.

But there was something else that scared her even more.

So after putting it off a far too many times, Jade extinguished the butt of her cigarette, pinching it with her fingers and ignoring the sting, because the burn healed far too quickly to be consequential. Spike frowned sometimes when he noticed her doing it, but didn't say anything, and this time he didn't see it, still puffing out into the air, a small, white cloud. She watched it for a moment, and him.

He was leaning back in the lounging chair, a blue long-sleeved t-shirt taut against his chest, far too fitting on him, really, she was conscientiously thankful she no longer blushed, because just glancing at him appreciatively would have warmed her cheeks. But he was there, so casual, and still, his eyes half-lidded. He was completely at rest, harmless even, if Jade didn't know better. He was like a cat laying in the sun, leonine and graceful. Except he was a vampire, and thus, definitely no sun. His body drew her attention, and then his face as always, the sleek lines of it, the curve of his cheekbones—the definition of his cheeks alone was reason for jealousy. He was beautiful, and he knew it, though he never flaunted it with her. Which was good, she had little resistance against him as it was.

"If I lose my soul, I want you to kill me," Jade said, without preamble, because asking him if she could ask him a question would get a snarky response, and they'd play around for a couple minutes before she'd finally get him serious enough to answer. Trying to engage him in idle chatter while she worked a way to it would just irritate him—he could see through that easy enough. He wasn't that easily deceived, so she wasn't even going to try. She glanced at him as she spoke, watched him stiffen. Someone else might not have noticed, if they hadn't known him as well or looked at him as close, but she did.

He waited a second, taking a long drag on his cigarette, and said casually, not looking at her, "What are you yammering about?"

"I don't mean you, in particular. Just make sure I don't live on. Unlive on, whatever." She gazed at him tentatively, but he still wouldn't meet her gaze.

"You're not going to lose it," He said, as if it could be so easily decided, as if he was soothing her over-excessive fears, like checking for monsters under a child's bed.

"If I do—"

"You won't." He clamped down stubbornly on the remainder of his cigarette, the next breath of smoky air he exhaled was hasty and short, rather than the billowing wisps previous.

Jade sighed. She leaned forward in her chair, towards him, fixing him with her gaze. "Spike."

"Weren't you the one sayin' that soul isn't everything?" Spike raised his head to catch her eyes doggedly. "I remember those words comin' out of your mouth when you were fighting that lil' slayer a time ago. Barbie, whatever her name was."

"Bailey?" Jade asked blankly, after frowning for a moment, trying to recall what exactly she had done or said.

"I believe your words were, 'Souls don't mean shit.'" Spike continued, without emotion, his dark blue eyes burrowing into hers.

Oh. So he had been listening to that. She had only a brief memory of it, seemed so long ago now, so insignificant. She did remember that that was the turning point in her fight with Bailey, that the younger Slayer's criticism had sparked Jade's anger, the assumption of having a soul meant they were automatically good, while not having one saw them as evil. And Jade knew firsthand that people could do terrible things with one, and she had said as much. She had been thinking of Pen, how Pen had led Bennett into becoming a Vampire, and Jade into killing him. And all the people who had committed crimes all their lives, rape, murder, and were inexorably human, without a trace of demon in them, _they_ had souls. Hadn't stopped them.

"But this is different," Jade said aloud.

"S'not different." Spike argued. He flicked the stub of the cigarette away. "You either believe it or you don't." He looked at her, waiting for an answer.

"I do believe that having a soul isn't everything," Jade allowed after hesitation. "But that doesn't mean—"

"You don't know. You don't know how you'll act. Look, I'm no bloody advocate for peace after death. Seen it firsthand. What they were, they don't come back as. You know that; I know that." His mother. Jade remembered him telling her about it, however briefly. She had come back, like Bennett. And like Jade, Spike had killed her himself. "But you make it sound like the sodding endgame; if you lose your soul, you lose. You don't know that. Hell, Angel's lost his too many times to count, but the sodding bugger keeps coming back to wear the white hat."

"But I'm—" Jade paused, not wanting to sound conceited, but it was true that she was something more than an ordinary vampire.

"We'd find a way," Spike said, as if he knew what she was going to say before she could try to stumble her way through saying it. "Or Red would. Bloody strong witch she is, she'd find a way. Get you back. None the worse for wear." He sat up straight, one of his hands gripping the back of his scalp, massaging the muscles there as he leaned up towards her.

"You can't know that for sure," Jade argued, without much vehemence, deflating in the face of his certainty.

"Gotta least give it a go. Can't give up that easy. Gotta fight." He said it like she had a choice in the matter, like she could just choose not to lose herself if she lost her soul. She touched the small bump under her clothes, the bauble that shone, would shine now in the still-darkness if she revealed it. But she kept it hidden, as always, kept it out of sight and out of mind. Pretend that her soul wasn't hanging so precariously out of her body.

"But if there was nothing anyone could do, and the demon took charge, you—"

"I had a chip," Spike interrupted. "Kept me from hurting people, directly, anyhow. Called that my Soul, if you will. But none of them agreed with that. Not bloody good 'nuf, especially for Buffy." He said the last part bitterly, more to himself than to Jade, but of course she heard it. "But I still wasn't—and don't you repeat this to anyone," He said with as much intimidation as he could muster, "The big bad. Thought I was. Fancied myself still the big dark evil, but truth was, I didn't react like a vampire would. You chip ol' Angelus up, he'd still find a way to kill everyone. Play those games he liked. He'd find a bloody way. Me, I just let it derail me. Found myself fighting on the side of good somehow," He shook his head. "Point is, even if it was the chip that stopped me, and not myself, I still wasn't as bad as I could have been. You might not be either. Don't chalk yourself up to be a big old sadist like Angelus just because he goes Jekyll n' Hyde when he loses his soul. Maybe you'd hold on, yeah? Bit of you, anyway. Or maybe you'd turn into a big moron, like that Mandy." He scoffed a bit.

"Mandy, as… stupid as she was, she and her boyfriend nearly destroyed the world. Or ruled it. She almost had a whole Slayer army."

"The word you should be payin' attention to is almost. All that power and strength, an' she got defeated. Not impossible, luv. Not the end."

"Right," Jade breathed. Spike glanced away from her and up to the sky, where it lightened further. Without a word, he rose to his feet, gesturing her into the house, their chairs abandoned to the rays of sunshine ready to conquer. Spike closed the door behind them, one hand still on the doorknob as Jade looked back at him. "But I feel it, Spike. It's angry. I took its power, and then shoved it away. It didn't get a chance, and it wants vengeance."

"Won't let that happen," Spike asserted stubbornly.

"Alright. I lose my soul, if you can get it back, then do it. Magic, however. I'll be fine with that. But—" She took a step towards him, and he regarded her without moving, his eyes flickering back at her. "If I kill people. Hurt people. If I'm too far gone, and I'm killing, and you have to… please. Make sure I don't come back. Make sure I'm dusted and gone."

"That—" Spike started, but it was her time to interrupt him—he'd done it enough to her, hadn't he?

"Promise me." She said, stoutly and firmly, but then softened her voice and her eyes with a plea. "Please."

He looked at her with an unreadable expression. She thought she might need to remind him, might need to throw Buffy's name into the mix to remind him what could be at stake, but he slowly, after a long pause, nodded. "Alright," He said gruffly. "I promise."


	12. Night Fifty

NIGHT FIFTY

"You have ten seconds," Spike said, running his tongue under his top set of teeth, managing to look infuriatingly attractive even while he was going for cocky. "To beat me." He looked at her from the other end of the mat, clad in his normal black attire, complete with his duster. Jade dug the heel of her feet into the padding below, her shoes set by the side. She had tied her hair away and up from her face, but strands had slipped out from their last couple of bouts, and she tucked them away, behind her ear.

They'd been sparring for nearly an hour, refining her moves and testing out her strength, how much she needed to hold back or didn't. Despite the training, she wasn't covered in sweat. There was some, but not any copious amount, like she might have as a human. Didn't really smell at all, she supposed that was one of the upsides of being a vampire. Especially the knowledge that Spike would smell it, that would have embarrassed her in the past. But she could tell from the both of them that there was little bodily odor, although a faint hint of the iron tang of blood coming from Spike. She must have hit him too hard, not enough to draw blood, but to bruise him, though he barely betrayed any pain, standing casually before her.

"And," He drew out the word, holding it on his tongue, his eyes never leaving hers, focused with an intensity that was near overwhelming, despite his relaxed stance. He didn't blink, and with a slightly fanged smiled, continued, "Go."

She rushed towards him, a blur, but he was ready, knowing with the short amount of time she'd be in a rush, a hurry, thinking too much about the time she was apt to make mistakes. He ducked to the side and she followed him with a kick, which hit him on the shoulder and staggered him. With a grunt, he recovered, slapping away her follow-up fist, but she latched onto his other arm, pulling him back towards her. She kicked him in the back of the knee, and he crumbled to his feet, but he struck her solidly in the stomach and she winced from the impact, which was not painless. He was using all of his strength, as he should. At her faltering, he struck her again, beneath the chin. Her head jerked up, a muscle throbbing painfully in protest. But she just had to ignore it.

Her eyes glanced to his lips, where he had just mouthed 'seven'. His eyes shone with merriment, a triumphant look crossing his face when she lost another second by distraction, his mouth smirking in the face of his chicanery. She couldn't help it. He _was_ a distraction, every inch of him, teasing her with his words, his movements and his expressions. But she had floundered long enough, and she regained her balance, steadying herself to swing another kick at him that he couldn't dodge. He tottered wildly to one side, and she elbowed him in the cheek, a downwards strike that further threw him off balance. She swept under his feet, sending them both to the ground as she weighted herself onto her hands. She sprung forward, determined to pin him down, but a wild backhand across her jaw deterred her.

She recovered quickly enough, kneeing Spike in the cheekbone as he rose up, graceful and fast, but not fast enough for her, and she reached for his arms to take his weapons away, but he knew her strength was greater and couldn't risk getting himself caught, jutting his elbows back and to his sides so her outstretched fingers couldn't wrap around them. How many seconds left by now, four?

She looked at his gold glinted eyes, the ridges on his forehead and his descended fangs. He was in vamp-face out of necessity for most of their fights, but she was never unnerved by it. She was just as at ease around it as with his normal face, but it was the absolute opposite for her. She was gladdened by the fact she couldn't be seen in mirrors. She never wanted to see her own vamp face. But her face was undeniably human, blue eyes matching gold, pale skin to pale skin. Except his was purpling, darkening in places she had struck him. Hers felt warm, from the slight slick of their sweat, as well as movement in general, the heat they were generating just by sparring. It was one of her favorite things about fighting, that she felt the blood moving through her body again, the heat. Kind of felt like she was alive again, the way her chest raised up and down as if she was breathing, a pant from the exertion.

There were just three seconds left. She clubbed him in the stomach, left to his navel, and his shoulders shrugged forward, leaning into it. He struck her to the body as well, to her shoulder, knocking her right side back, but she slugged forward with the momentum of the other side of her body, hitting him so that he flew backwards. He bounced, nearly off the mat, though he recovered with an impressive speed, though she noticed he was leaning more heavily to one side. Another few blows were exchanged between them, with Jade being more careful not to take as many, for his strength was enough to throw her a bit.

There was a lot of scrapping between them. Jade wasn't wasting time with high jumps that lifted her over Spike's head, she had to stay on the ground and close. Two seconds, and Spike was staying just out of reach, careful now, ready to pummel her when she came close. His eyes glinted back at her. She had beaten him before, yes, but never with a time limit. He knew that, knew that having a certain amount of time made her anxious and prone to mistakes.

And the fact she didn't want to fail.

She cared what he thought, wanted his respect. And she could—should be able to defeat him that fast, faster even. She held back strength, but not speed. So she rushed forward once more, a surge of movement, striking his shoulder, his face, his hip with lightning fast hits, though amazingly, he remained standing, though he staggered back with another grunt, trying to push her back, but she danced easily to the side, kicking him in the leg. He stumbled, but _still_ didn't fall, and now she was aware of his counting, as he had done it aloud. He was just starting to say 'One', his lips mouthing the 'wuh' when she was hit with a burst of panic, and she layered another kick at him, this time hard, meaning to knock him to the ground where she could snap on top of him right after.

But in her haste, the kick was harder than she had meant it to be. She heard his grunt and a snap at the same time, the crunch of something breaking.

"Spike!" His name lept from her lips as a startled cry. She was still in mid-air, having meant to spring down on him after knocking him to the mat, but she corrected her momentum, dashing instead behind him to catch him as he crashed down. He knocked solidly into her, groaning as he did so, one of his hands pressed to his ribs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Spike are you okay?"

"I'm alright," He bit out raggedly. "Don't get your knickers…" He winced. "In a twist."

"I broke something," She propped him up, his back resting into her shoulder as she leaned towards his front so she could get a better look. Spike's expression was pinched, his lips pressed solidly together, in an attempt to hide his pain. It didn't work, she could feel how rigid his body was.

"That you did," Spike didn't say it to invoke her guilt, just accepting the obvious. "It's nothin' to worry 'bout."

"But I—"

"I'm no glass china shop, Slayer." Spike said. He brushed off her hand as she reached towards him, but he didn't push away her support, letting himself lean into her instead.

"I shouldn't have hit you that hard." She mourned, pressing her lips together.

"Doin' this for a reason, aren't we? 'Sides, I didn't ask you to hold back, told you a certain time, didn't I." He was feeling tenderly along his stomach, his jaw taut, though when he glanced at her there was no anger in his eyes. "Not like you'd be worried 'bout pulling your punches against your enemy."

"I'm sorry," Jade murmured. She knew he was trying to comfort her, which just made it worse. God, she had hit him so hard, without meaning to. Spike, of all people, and she had hurt him.

"Don't need to look all puppy-eyed," Spike looked at her with the barest amusement. "Already dead, remember. Best you do it on me, anyway. S'not going to kill me. Yeah. You need to work on that monstrous strength of yours, how much you let out. We knew that already. Jus' needs more practice."

She was still holding him, she realised, keeping him upright. "What did I—"

"Just a couple of ribs. They'll heal quickly enough. Just gotta take it easy." He grunted, his head inadvertently brushing her cheek as he shifted his weight. She felt the stiffness of his curls, although he hadn't quite kept up with gelling it as he sometimes did, his platinum blonde hair

"Let me help you up," Jade murmured. He tensed, then acquiesced with a shrug.

"If you stop looking so glum." Spike allowed with a pointed look. She wrapped an arm carefully around him and lifted him up, but when he could stand he gestured her away. "I can walk, a'right. Just won't be doing any jumpin' jacks for the next couple days. Stop with the guilty eyes," He added, with a sidelong expression at her.

She tried to smile, nodding instead. He was so cavalier about the whole thing, like it was nothing to be concerned about, but Spike was the last one she wanted to hurt, and the fact that she had, even accidentally made her feel terrible. She'd probably be coping better if he was at least yelling at her, but no, he was almost amused, even as he moved with some effort, his hand flat across his lower chest like a brace.

"Look," he said as he paused his hobble. "Pretty used to getting beat up. Live a dangerous unlife," He flashed her a smirk, a gleam in his eye that was reminiscent of his demon. "Kick the Spike was national pastime back in Sunnydale." Then, uncharacteristic of him, he reached towards her, a bit hesitantly, and Jade tensed despite herself. She knew Spike wouldn't strike her back, but she didn't expect him to touch her, tucking an errant lock of hair out of her face and behind her ear. His touch was still warm, as was hers from their sparring, and his fingers lingered there, on her cheek, for another long second. "Don't usually get people sorry about doing it." He added in dry humor, although there was the slightest hint of regret in his eyes.

"Is it a badge of honor, then?" Jade finally found her voice, a bit of humor on her own as she managed a smile then. She stifled the urge to curl her fingers around Spike's, afraid that he'd retreat once he realised he was touching her. He didn't seem to right now, as if it was such a casual thing. "Some part of the initiation to get into the 'Scoobie gang'? I have to beat you up first?"

Spike smirked, shaking his head. "Somehow, Bloody Mary, I doubt even that would make you one of them." He didn't say it acerbically, in fact there was something akin to pride. "And that's no bad thing," he affirmed. "You ain't like them is all. Don't fit into that box."

"What box then?" Jade asked, in a breathy whisper.

"The black sheep box, luv." Spike said with a crooked smile. "Like me."

* * *

She was an overprotective biddy, that one. Despite his declarations that he could walk—and he bloody could, just hurt like a bitch, she hovered, her blue eyes fixed on him, without so much as allowing a blink. And those eyes, big and soulful and filled with guilt, he found it hard to look back at. Had that look on his own face from time to time, he knew that well enough. But she didn't deserve it, didn't need to beat down on herself. Better it was on him than anyone else. Reason they were doing this. But she'd caused him pain and felt bad about it.

He had a crooked smirk on his face at that thought, his fingers curling around the doorway as a support, even though he knew Miss Guilt was more than willing to step in if he needed it. Someone feeling bad about hitting him—was that a first? Hell, Buffy had had a right game of it back in Sunnydale. Something that Spike had become used to. The remorse afterwards, well, he had seen that too, but what differed with this was that she hadn't intended to hurt him, and was scared as hell that she had. Like a jack rabbit, ready to bounce.

And he didn't want to scare her back into that fugue land, so the first thing was not to make her feel too bad about it. So as they approached the stairs, he extended his arm to her, which she all but flew towards, all too happy to be of use, her slim fingers wrapping around his arm. Her touch was overly gentle, with Spike knowing firsthand that there was far more power behind it, waiting. Knew it all too well.

Ow. He winced at the pain in his chest, stemming from the movement of his arm. She felt it, drawing closer, giving him the boost he needed to make it up the stairs. He stopped at the top of them, leaning onto the doorframe, and she released him, moving a couple steps away so he wouldn't snap at her for hovering. She was still doing it anyway, and he smiled wryly at the thought. Wasn't used to this act, least not towards him. No-one apologized to the Spike, not normally. Sure, he didn't really need it. Wasn't all glass and ready to break whenever someone was snarky with him. Be shattered mighty small by now if that were the case.

Still, it was nice.

The pain in his chest, not so nice. More than a couple of ribs broken, and his breastbone hurt like a sodding train ran into it. One good thing was that he didn't _need_ to breathe, or else he'd be a load more pain. No, if he didn't try to move, didn't have to, it'd be a mite better. Just wouldn't try to smell anything for a while. He pushed off from the wall and headed over to the couch, where he figured he wasn't going to move from often over the next couple of days while he healed. He made his way over to the sofa, falling a bit more carefully than usual into the cushions.

"Do you want me heat up some blood?" Her voice was husky and low, trying very hard to sound nonchalant and not overly caring, and failing completely.

He opened his mouth to speak, and she had skirted the side of the couch to stand in front of him. Her hair was mussed, now that she couldn't keep it back easily with a ponytail, pieces framing her face, some sticking to her forehead and cheeks from sweat. "Not pity," she added quickly, giving him a contrite smile. "It would help with the healing."

"No sad bambi eyes then," He said as acquiescence, and her eyes glowed brightly in return. She actually looked happy for a second, so rare it was for her now to really look so elated that he didn't want to quash the moment. Fine, let her fawn over him for a mo. Nice to see anyway, and in all his years, over a hundred and fifty of them, it hadn't happened near enough. Sure, he'd had women fawning over him in the past—something about his white hair and black attire, attracted them like sodding flies to paper, and he never much minded. Didn't care for it much though, after he fell in love with Buffy, anyone else's attention just paled in comparison. Why have a hundred women fall for him when he couldn't have the one he wanted. But it was different with Jade. She hadn't fallen for his allure at all, but maybe it was because he hadn't flirted with her enough. Hadn't thought about it, really. Definitely didn't think much of it now, with chest feeling like it was cracked down the middle.

And she was gone in a blur, disappearing rapidly, even from his vision, for him to hear a beep behind him, the microwave starting.

Finding the leather bunching uncomfortably restrictive on him, he took the sleeve in his hand, intending to shimmy out of it, a pained groan slipping through his lips as he unintentionally jostled his chest. He took a breath he didn't need, holding it in his mouth, meaning to buck up and try again—just a little pain at all.

Then there she was, as quickly as she had disappeared, with the microwave still droning on in the background. Her expression was unreadable as she appraised him, her voice soft and gentle as she asked, "Can I help?" She looked hopeful, almost, if she could spare some pain, so it was that in her eyes that made him shrug in concession.

"Knock yourself out," He halted his own struggles, and she leaned towards him, hesitating halfway and continuing. Her hands extended towards his neck, cold skin brushing cold skin—though hers had returned to resting temperature faster than his, which was still flushed from their sparring. Her fingertips brushed the flesh, and he found himself almost shuddering. Shuddering. And not because he was repulsed, he wasn't, but she had touched his neck after all, and he remembered a comment she had made once, about a sensitive neck, and he shared that trait, particularly along the vein that Drusilla had marred so long ago. It was nice, the way she leaned into him, almost a couple right angle to reach him on the couch. Her eyes were carefully avoiding his, despite their closeness, and her fingers went from his neck to the collar, where she pulled, delicately and carefully, as if she was defusing a bomb and not helping him take off his sodding coat—freeing his shoulders first.

Wherever her fingers went, a tingle of sensation followed. It was so soft, her touch, he felt he had to concentrate to feel it in its entirety, which he did. He hadn't been touched like this in a while, so gentle and caring. Hell, he was struggling to even think of the last time. And as intimate as it was, it wasn't sexual, even as her hands slipped between the duster and his shirt and carefully lifted it off, bracing the back of his shoulder so she could pull the tail of the jacket from the couch's folds. When he had lifted himself to help in those movements and winced at the jostling of his bones, she had paused. Frozen, more like it, fixing him with her gaze that was more demanding, a silent _Don't move._ So he hadn't, much, and she had pulled his duster free, setting it gently on the couch behind him. It was a relief. Wasn't much of a weight, that heavy leather, to a vampire, but it was a bit too compressing in his current state.

Jade straightened, giving him a small, pleased smile. She fanned her arm around, from where she had deposited the coat, her hand coming close enough to him that it was within reach. As she meant to return her hand to her side, he reached out suddenly, catching it. He felt her wrist pulse within his grip, her fingers curling back and forth uncertainly. She hadn't expected to be touched, and he hadn't expected to reach for her. But he had, hadn't he? She was so close, be a damn shame not to. He liked having her close. Wanted her closer, and it was a thought that both startled and confused him.

He wasn't the only one startled. Jade had frozen, looking down at their joined hands much in the same way she had in the shower, when he had held her then, trying to convince her there was more to being human than having a beating heart. She had seemed so surprised then, so baffled by the fact he was touching her. And he admitted it was odd for them, to be so close. He didn't know what to think of it, except for the fact that his hand had reacted almost of its own will, wanting to keep her from drawing away. She was still staring at him, her soft, unblinking sky blue eyes half lidded, full lips that were still red, even after death, rearranged in a small 'o'.

What now? Pull her in closer? He thought about it, really thought about it, and this was Spike, who was reaction and action, not contemplation. But he was thinking about it now, because it was so confusing. He never thought he'd start wanting Jade. Didn't think he'd start wanting anyone, really, 'cept for Buffy, who it seemed like she was the one he'd never had. Sure, Spike had had flings, little liaisons to get the blonde off his mind—one being Harmony, and that was a mistake. Didn't want that mistake with Jade, no. But he did want something. Just needed to make his sodding mind up. Was a bit hard right now, with her looking at him, a docile lamb, whose first concern was to make sure he was alright—how did that figure into the cosmos? Spike didn't know the last time _that_ had happened to him. Dru had been so buggered up, her little loving and tender affections were few and far between and random as sodding hell. And with Buffy, nearly nonexistent. The tender moments. There'd been some loving, even if the stubborn bint wouldn't deny it. Wouldn't repeat it, at least. And Spike had tried. Tried to wheedle his way back into Buffy's life, didn't know where he fit without being in it.

But he was fitting somewhere else now, wasn't he? It was new, and bloody terrifying, and sod all hell if Spike was going to bugger it up. Slow. Wouldn't rush anything. Wouldn't push anything. Just watch and wait, and that wasn't his thing, not at all, but his head was spinning and he needed a moment to set it on right. He gave the slim wrist in his grasp a tiny squeeze, then released it. Banished the thought of pulling her closer. _Not now_. And not now was right. Shouldn't be moving much at all, really. Not with this sodding splinter in his chest, courtesy of the bird in front of him. Still, he wasn't angry. Felt a lot of things right now, confusion being at the forefront. "'Preciated." He found his voice, and Jade blinked, breaking from her frozen spell. She stood there for a moment, her lips still slightly parted, and she might have been thinking of a response when the microwave beeped, and then she was gone, a blur in vision.

He was both relieved and disappointed when she moved away.


	13. Night Fifty Five

NIGHT FIFTY FIVE

Jade returned to the cabin with a bloody—literally—branch in her body.

Spike had been on the phone. Since they had moved to this cabin in the woods, Buffy had been phoning in every so often. Looking for updates, checking up on him and the like. At the frequency of the calls and the little Spike actually had to report, he had accused her of missing him, which she had sputtered and denied, hanging up in normal spitfire fashion, only to call back in a couple days later, a beginning pattern. It pleased him, the thought that she _did_ miss him, checkin' in to hear his voice and the like. But maybe it should have pleased him more. As it was, it was just confusing. He both looked forward to and dreaded the calls from her, the litany of emotions it ran through him in such a short time. Buffy'd been concerned, and a bit aggravated to hear that he had broken bones, but he soothed her down right quick with promises that he'd heal up quickly enough. And they had. Fifth day in, there was scarcely any pain left, just little twinges when he moved too swiftly or stretched.

So there'd been a hold on the sparring, which he knew Jade was secretly relieved about it. She'd trained on her own, using the multitude of weapons stored in the basement. Probably better for it. She'd admitted she wasn't one for hand to hand, that she had preferred her bow and machete, and he could see why. Moved a lot better, swifter with them. She was getting used to her massive strength with the bow, however, trying to factor both accuracy and power into her shots. Hadn't been much else going on. Spike had been bringing Jade closer and closer to the inhabitants of the woods, always making sure he was right beside her whenever they caught a whiff of the human's scents. She never lost control, but she wasn't unaffected either, stiffening up like she was a stone slab until she found other aroma to breathe in.

He'd been rife with his normal banter, teasing Buffy about the consistency of her calls and getting her in a huffy state.

"You keep missing me, then?" He had purred into the phone, and he could almost see her rolling her eyes as she pretended not to smile back.

"Just business, Spike," She shot back, not at all convincing. "You ran off with a super powered vamp, remember? It's my job to make sure it's not going to get out of hand."

"Trust I'd give you a bit of a heads up before then," He said with a pout she couldn't see but could probably imagine, pretending to be hurt.

"My worry is that you wouldn't be _around_ for the heads up." Buffy had admitted, her voice having a discordant edge to it so she wouldn't sound so vulnerable, but Spike knew the concern was there, and he had jumped on her phrasing.

" _Worried_ , are you?" He teased, passing his tongue across his teeth. At her pause, he took pity on her compassion, hell if she was giving a shit, maybe it was time for him not to act like a bloody wanker, so he added in a gentler tone, "Not going to be like that, pet. She's doing well. Just needs some time is all."

"It's _dangerous_ ," Buffy argued. "She's dangerous, like it or not."

"She's got a soul. Not like she's a soulless running around without a leash."

"But she's still a—"

"A vamp?" Spike supplied, with a hard edge to his tone.

"Maybe," Buffy admitted. "So? I'm a Slayer."

"So was she."

"Look, I can't help being worry-girl. It's my job. My non-paying, life job. If you let Wills come over and—"

"No, no humans. Not til she can control it better. Took Captain Forehead nearly a century to get over the urges."

"Alright. I hope for all of our sakes that it's sooner and not later." Buffy said, in her older tone, where her slang wasn't as prominent, and her voice was world-weary.

"Cuz you miss me, and want me back?" Spike couldn't help but drive in.

"Yeah, that must be it," Buffy responded sarcastically, but Spike knew he wasn't far off the mark. Maybe she'd admit it to herself one day, so he wouldn't be the only one to know it for sure.

"Well you don't have—" Spike had stopped mid-sentence as he became aware of two things. One, footsteps where there had been none before. That wasn't a surprise to him, Jade had gone out for her little flying time, as she often did when it was dark. Her returning wasn't what caught his attention, it was the heavy tang of iron, the unmistakable scent of blood that accompanied her. "Got to go, luv. Thanks for the chat." A wave of consternation overtook him, so that he hung up before he could hear Buffy's surprised response.

"Jade?" He called, a tightness in his chest. Had she… had she attacked someone on her flight jaunt? Guilt pricked at him. He went with her most nights, but at Buffy's call this evening he had opted to stay behind. Stupid, stupid of him to leave her alone. Even if there weren't many people in this neck of the woods, there were still people. If she lost control while he wasn't there…

But that wasn't the case, not in the slightest. It wasn't some poor sod's blood all over her front, it was _hers_.

She approached the cabin at a stumble, her hand pressed against her abdomen, from where there was a branch jutting out from her body, so very near to her heart. Spike felt himself grow rigid, his eyes wide as he surveyed her. A whole range of emotions washed over him, fear, concern, a deep worry in his bones.

She looked up at him, paler even more than normal, giving him a contrite smile. "Hi."

* * *

"What the bloody hell?" He shouted at her, his eyes near bulging out of his head as he stared at her, to which Jade could only manage a very embarrassed smile. And pain-filled. Her whole body hurt, most especially her torso. A bit understandable considering the large branch sticking out of it. God, it hurt. And Spike looked livid, even as he rushed to catch her as her knees buckled. "What the hell—"

"Can you just… help me sit down before you yell at me?" Jade asked wryly as his arms slid around her, lifting her up even as she spoke.

"You're going to get blood on everything," He said critically, more to express his disapproval than actual disdain at the thought.

"I didn't think that would bother a vamp," Jade said a tad weakly, letting herself be half-lifted, half dragged into the cabin as Spike very carefully handled her. She thought she felt him wince a bit, from his still healing chest injury, but he didn't hesitate and didn't complain, moving her fluidly.

"How the sodding hell did you—"

"Let me sit down," She interjected again, wincing. He looked at her, his face a mask of anger and concern, and with pinched lips, let it drop while he maneuvered her over. Despite his comment, he didn't take any precautions to keep her blood from dripping onto the leather couch, more concerned with trying not to jostle her rather than the steady drop of blood. She leaned back with a quiet hiss, the pain aching back up in her torso. Well, she did have a damned branch sticking out of her.

"Didn't want to pull it out," She muttered in a tight voice, her chest feeling constrictive. "In case there were splinters. Little close to home."

He glared at her, his blue eyes bright and his brow furrowed. "If this was some bloody suicide attempt gone wrong—"

"No," Jade laughed, or at least tried to, stopping mid-chuckle and wincing instead. "It wasn't," She said more quietly, and his eyes softened somewhat, hearing the sincerity in her tone. He looked back at the branch sticking out of her, grating his teeth.

"Gonna pull it out," Spike audibled unnecessarily, but he was trying to warn her. She brought her fingers, which she noticed were trembling now, to her collar, where she came a very sharp pull and tore her shirt in half, letting it fall from the wound and out of the way.

His glance was ribbing. "I don't blame you for wanting to strip in my presence but—"

"Don't make me laugh," She begged with a smile. "Just making it easier." His expression let her know he understood. Probably more grateful he didn't have to do it himself, though it all seemed familiar. Back to the first time she had ever met him, and she said as much. "Just like old times?"

He shook his head with a wry chuckle. "'Cept you didn't take a stake for me this time. Better not." He added a bit more sharply. He glanced at her mostly bare torso, gaze stretching from her wound up to her black, bloodstained bra, and then to the tattoo over her heart, the 'V' he had seen from last time. "Gonna hurt," he warned her unnecessarily. It hurt already. She just needed it _out_ so she could heal, she could take the pain. She nodded abruptly, her smile gone, fingers clenching tightly into fists. Get it over with. She glanced across to Spike, who met her gaze with his bright blue eyes. He seemed hesitant, reluctant to hurt her as his hand wrapped around the knobby branch. It stuck out from her at an impressive half foot. She'd tried to keep from moving as much as she could, but it had been inevitable, from all her motion, and it had chafed the flesh, jostling against her bones and unneeded organs.

He didn't count down, just gaze steadily into her eyes, and with the tightening of his lips into a thin line, he pulled with one swift, careful motion, and she let out a gasp of pain—a shriek, really, that she couldn't hold back, even as she tried gritting her teeth. But after the immediate pain came relief, relief that that dangerously wooden object was no longer lodged in her body.

She was dimly aware of him steadying her with one hand on her shoulder, which had kept her still as he pulled out the stake. He looked now, at the gaping hole, and the steady blood that stained her pale skin. Her fingers clenched and unclenched, and somehow, her hand had wrapped around the arm that had steadied her, holding onto him as if he were her anchor. He glanced to her hold but didn't not try to pull away, laying the wooden branch on the floor, curling his lip in disgust. She didn't blame him. In fact, she had the same feelings about it. Had been far, far too close to turning her to dust.

He stood up then, his hand slipping from her fingers, and she closed her eyes, succumbing to the throes of pain, trying to keep very, very still as she felt the blood drip out of her. She didn't know how long until she heard his returning footsteps, her watery eyes opening to see him extend a jar of warmed blood towards her, a dark towel in his other hand, which he proceeded to press against her wound. She raised her hand to accept the jar, though her fingers trembled, badly, and he brushed her hand away without a second thought, raising the edge to her lips so she could drink. She caught his gaze, those bright blue eyes that betrayed nothing, and she acquiesced, drinking quickly and greedily of the warm liquid, letting it slip down to the back of her throat, hoping it would help replenish what she had lost.

She licked away the last trace of red from her lips as Spike set the jar down, and he returned to his ministrations, both wiping away the blood and administering pressure to the wound. He applied some gauze to cover the gaping hole, slowing, if not completely stopping, the blood. He was gentle, astonishingly so, meticulous and careful, he didn't cause her any more pain then was possible. They were quiet then, except for Jade's raspy hisses in lieu of breathing. He worked on the wound until it was manageable, and then he brought his eyes back up to hers, finally speaking again.

"So. What the bloody hell was that about?" He was frowning, the easy tranquility from bandaging her gone as he looked at her accusatorially, his scarred eyebrow arched while the lines of his face were hard and sharp.

Jade took a steadying breath that she didn't need, leaning back onto the couch, the towel that he had draped behind her shoulders. She could talk now, with the lack of a large branch pretending to be another limb. She thought back, locking eyes with her unenthusiastic nurse. "I was flying. Wasn't really paying attention. My fault—I know. I was landing, and I hadn't realised—there was a family, Spike. Right beneath me almost. I didn't see them until I was way too close. They were in a stupid place. Middle of the forest pretty much. Hiking at night—" She shook her head in exasperation, although she couldn't put all the blame on them. Just because her family hadn't been the hiking kind.

"Did you—" Spike's voice was hoarse, and he had paled at her admission. But thankfully, so thankfully, Jade was able to shake her head.

"No—hence the near staking. I saw them late, tried to pull back up. Ran into that stupid branch. They were so close, Spike. I was almost right above them."

"And you didn't want to—"

"No. Not after the branch. Wasn't even hungry, though they passed less than a hundred meters below me. More concerned with not trying to drip on their heads." She aimed for levity, but ended up with a mirthless chuckle.

"Pain probably outdid belly's rumblings," Spike contemplated.

"Yeah," She agreed with a slight frown. "Must have been the pain." She thought on that for a moment, thought of how it had been, suspended above that family. The two adults were obviously the parents, with three kids trailing after them. Jade was terrible at guessing ages, but they had probably ranged from grade six to eleven, and even with the branch sticking out of her, she could have drained them all easy. But she hadn't even thought about it. Just been so focused on the agony, trying to keep still and quiet while they were walking by. She hadn't thought much on it then, but now she did, with a mind that wasn't quite so clouded with pain. But maybe that was what she had needed. _Pain trumps hunger_ , Jade thought to herself, paraphrasing Spike's words. It was a revelation, an exciting one if it was true. She'd have to try it out again to make sure. Not so much the near death experience, but maybe a little pain would do the trick. Because if that was the trick to overcoming her urges, well she could think of worse.

"Should have come with you," Spike was mumbling, breaking into her reverie. He was perched before her still, crouching on his legs, slightly lower than him with her vantage point on the couch. The anger had faded from his eyes from the retelling of the story, now a mix of pride and guilt remained there instead.

"No," Jade disagreed softly, and he glanced back up her, somewhat surprised. "It was good I could do it on my own. Not that the trip back was altogether fun," She grimaced at the memory. Flying hadn't exactly been an option, so she had trounced back rather ungracefully, the slowest she had walked in a while now. "But I didn't hurt them," She said a smile, utterly proud of herself, even though her human self knew that claiming the capability to hurt someone and choosing not to do it wasn't exactly something to brag about. It was for her, now. A huge accomplishment.

"That you didn't," Spike surprisingly echoed her smile. "Maybe we'll speed things up a bit, then. Get you a bit closer more of'en."

"Yeah," Jade agreed. "Might be able to handle that."

"Not 'til after you heal," Spike added adamantly, and she couldn't help the disappointed expression, pouting her bottom lip a bit, but he was right. It was best to heal, at least for the moment. Couch-sitting was the best thing she could do. She had resigned herself to that when unexpectedly, Spike's cold hand reached for hers, giving it a light squeeze. Startled, her eyes flickered back to his, where the blue was soft and unusually vulnerable. He cleared his throat, and added, as gruffly as he could, "Keep a sodding look out next time, will you? Bloody stupid of you, nearly running into your own death."

She smiled apologetically. "It was not the most graceful of landings." She admitted.

"Stupid mistake," Spike continued to berate, but he still wasn't quite able to hide the softness in his eyes, even with his critical words, and his continued hold on her hand spoke that he was grateful she hadn't perished, and she would take it, even if she'd rather hear him say it. That was definitely too much to ask for, so she nodded contritely.

"Won't happen again. Thank you for the patch job." She said the last part quietly enough so that his brow smoothed out, his thumb softly tracing the back of her knuckles. They sat there for a few minutes longer, before Spike looked down at their joined hands, realising what he was doing, and released her. Jade felt a twinge of regret as he moved away, leaving the couch.

But he returned not too much later, with the remote and a bag of chips. Jade still liked human food, even if it didn't taste the same as it used to, she was fond of snacking, as was he. With comments about them having to take it easy, he flipped the channels until it settled on a movie. He moved her to the other side of the couch to wipe down the remains of her blood, and then unexpectedly, sat next to where she had settled. The couch was so long, spread out in an L shape, meant for a great many people. But she watched him approach with half-lidded eyes, the pain and loss of blood making her drowsy, along with the lull of the movie playing in the background, watching him approach. Her head was on the couch's arm, her feet on the seat cushions. Until he sat down. She felt her weight lift as he had reached for her ankles, lifting them up into the air. Then, Spike—Spike, of all people, pulled her feet back into his lap as he settled into the couch. It was such a domesticated action, so strange from the image of him that he always insisted on projecting. But there he was, even absentmindedly stroking them as he passed the chips back and forth to her. Pampering, perhaps, like she had done for him after breaking his ribs, although admittedly, there was a lot less guilt involved. He was just here because he wanted to be? So she said nothing, afraid if she said a word, he'd become embarrassed and retreat. So she only managed surreptitious glances towards the bleach blonde vampire at her feet, half convinced it was a mirage.

All in all, as they settled into watching the TV, she found that having a branch lodged in her body had somehow been worth it.


	14. Night Sixty

NIGHT SIXTY

"Start packing your things," Spike announced.

Jade looked up from the couch with surprise.

"Not that you 'ave very much to pack," Spike continued on with a contemplative frown. "But whatever you do have, get to packin' it up."

Jade frowned herself, more from confusion than from anything else. She threw off the blanket covering her, wincing only a little at the stab of pain flaring up in her torso. It had healed quite well, after not even a week. But not completely, not yet.

"Well, not right away," Spike said, as a second-thought. "Not leaving until next night, anyway."

She rose to her feet fluidly and gracefully, or as much so as she could manage. "Are we going somewhere?" Jade asked, attempting to keep her tone even. She didn't mean to be second-guessing him, it was kind of obvious to her that Spike ran the show—and that was fine with her. Probably smarter, really. She didn't know where much she would go, except probably north to Canada and live in the tundra and avoid human contact. As it was, putting her choices in Spike's hands had worked out. Certainly led to less boring endeavours. And she was getting better at controlling her bloodlust, she was.

Spike had taken her nearer to the other cabins every night. Sure, he was there, and with her gaping wound, probably even able to subdue her if necessary, but still. Baby steps, but in the right direction. Still, she liked it here. The luxury of it, the great screen TV and blood delivered to their doorstep, not to mention a huge shower—and bathroom—she had been pretty much spoiled. If they had to go back to running from place to place again—she wrinkled her nose at the thought.

But she wouldn't complain. He knew what was best. If there was one thing Spike had figured out, it was Vampires. And she was a new one. Had to defer to the Master, she supposed. Or maybe it was just because it was Spike. That was enough that made her want to be congenial. Good little obedient Slaypire.

"Yeah," Spike answered, scratching the back of his neck. He glanced over at her. "Not pushing many limits here. Don't need the full isolation gimmick anymore."

"Going to where there's more people?" Jade asked, trying to keep any alarm out of her tone. Sure, she had gotten better. She had her own stopgap measure. Found it by accident, when she had near staked herself on that tree, and Spike's offhand comment had fueled her curiosity. Pain did beat hunger. Whenever she felt the urge, or was in danger of feeling it, a little pain, and her head was cleared. No fangs, no longing, nothing. And it was easy enough right now, with her torso wound. Surreptitiously sticking her thumb into her ribs provided her with a sharp enough pang that she couldn't even think about being hungry.

Spike didn't know, and she didn't feel like it was necessary to tell him. She was overcoming her hunger, didn't really matter _how_. And she had a feeling he might have a problem with it, and he didn't need to. It worked. It was nothing she couldn't heal, even if the pain wasn't any lessened, the recuperation could. And it was a relief to know it wasn't solely out of her control, that just one second of distraction could end in blood. It was better this way. She'd made an improvement.

And he had noticed, then. She looked closely in his eyes, those bright blue eyes, and saw, carefully hidden behind his macho nonchalance, that he was proud.

So she pushed her misgivings away. If he thought she was ready, then she would be.

Spike glanced at her, a hint of a smile on his lips. Something amusing, a joke she didn't get. "A bit more, yeah."

Jade bounced up to the top of the couch, sitting precariously on it. It didn't take much balance to keep herself completely still, a combination of strength and discipline. She faced him, about the same height she would be if she was standing. She surveyed him seriously, tucking a errant strand of hair behind her ear as she nodded. "If you think I'm ready." She tried to keep the trepidation from her tone, but from his narrowing of his eyes, she wasn't quite successful.

"You're getting there, Bloody Mary," Spike insisted. "Gotten closer to the Happy Meals every day, haven't we? Haven't so much as vamp faced out at them."

Jade nodded. "Yeah," She admitted, softly. "I just… You were with me the whole time. And I was pretty hurt. Not at my best. Maybe that was why I was confident I couldn't hurt them. You'd stop me."

He regarded her with an unreadable expression, though it bordered on exasperation. "Stop you, would I?" He said in a low tone. He reached out then, in a blur, towards her, his hand reaching low, bunched in a fist, towards her tender flesh, where the branch had punctured her body.

Her own hand shot out, slender fingers ensnaring his wrist and stopping him mid-strike. He curled his fingers, but even his long digits couldn't brush her ribs, stopping only a hairbreadth from her shirt. He tried wiggling his caught arm, but her hold was steel. After a half-hearted attempt to free himself, his eyes glanced to hers, haughty and conceited.

"Can't stop you, girl wonder, even with a gapin' hole in you."

"Hrm." Jade said, a mix of acquiescence and loyal denial. Spike was a fighter. Most of his passion was borne into it, a glee that was as part of him as were his bones. She didn't believe in the absolute that he _couldn't_ stop her. He'd find a way. Adapt somehow. Even if he lost a thousand times, she'd never rule him out completely. Still, that wasn't what he was getting at.

"You're right," She spoke. Her eyes glanced to his pale hand, still in the confines of her grasp. It was like marble, structured and carved, though with black chipped nail polish, due to one of their more lazier evenings watching TV. Cold but still alive, it had drooped demurely in her hold. Realising she still held him captive, she released him before he could mention it, and his hand returned back to his side.

"'Course I am," Spike said with a sneer that didn't have much vehemence behind it.

Jade managed a smile at his faux condescension. This was good. This was getting somewhere. She already felt bad about condemning Spike to babysitting duty in some backwater forest, so the sooner she got control over her bloodlust, the better. "And hopefully, less boring for you." She ventured.

Spike shrugged. "S'not about that." He fidgeted with the edge of his shirt. No duster today, but one of his frustratingly slimming long-sleeved shirts that accentuated everything about his body that was extremely hard not to admire. Slim and muscular, he was more than just eye-catching. "Not about excitement. Leads to shortcuts. Dangerous ones," He added, a warning, and Jade thought to her pain-filled method. Not quite a shortcut, was it? Still, she didn't think he knew, warning her in general rather than specifically. She relaxed a tad.

"Still. Not exactly the kind of living that excites you. Or… Unliving. I mean, maybe there's a good demon dimension somewhere if—"

"Relax," he chuckled. The flash of a smile stopped her immediately. "Don't need to try to please me, Slayer. I know what I got myself into. Not that I'm not riling for a good fight," He flicked his tongue over the edges of his teeth. "Have enough on my hands trying to beat you in a match. It'll do me for a time. And still, long as we beat Broody's record of a hundred years of rat-eatin and wallowing in alleys, s'not the worst."

Jade smiled. She'd almost had to write down all the numerous nicknames Spike had for Angel, although Captain Forehead, Poof and Broody were his favorites.

"'Sides, locking you up somewhere where there's no snacks around won't help you build your tolerance. This place will."

She sat up straighter, curiosity taking hold of her as she looked at him eminently. "A town?"

"Bit outside of one. Not quite in it."

"There's a lot of humans there?" No doubt, she kept her voice strong. As many as there were, she'd handle it.

"Not as many as most towns," Spike said purposefully, a glint in his eyes.

Jade frowned. "Wait. Does that mean—"

Spike smirked, nodding his head. Haughtiness in his gaze, that it had taken her so long to grasp the concept. "That's right. Back to a good ol' mix, where there's more demons than humans, all in a lit'l community. You got it, Bloody Mary. We're headed back to Haven."


	15. Night Sixty Two

"So are you wanting to check up all your old pals, now that we're here?" Spike asked her. She had just gone into her room. He'd let her pick which one—they didn't exactly have the selection of their previous cabin. This place was a bit of a dump comparatively. Had a bunch of human tenants over the years, came meaning to fix up the little house. Didn't really understand what they were signing up for, with the neighbours. Humans had a hard time remembering Haven if they didn't live in it, and this house was just on the outskirts. Was better that way. Didn't want to try to fit them in town, not yet. Meant it was a bit of a dump, but they had running water and electricity, and it would do the vampires fine. Better than camping under a tree. Anything was better than that.

She didn't duck back, but he could hear her voice loud and clear. "No, I wasn't thinking of it," Jade answered. "Figured it was more business than pleasure anyway. And most of them are humans." She reappeared back in the hall in front of him. It was a human thing of her, he had noticed. Despite the fact they really didn't have to look at each other or be all that near to hear each other speak, she found it impolite to be otherwise. Or she was just used to it. It was strange, she moved like a vampire, looked like a vampire, smelled like a vampire, but she was so inalterably human, in a way Spike and the soddin' Poof even, never were. They'd had over a century with their demon, was no wrenching them apart, but as different as Jade thought she was from who she had been, she wasn't at all a demon. Some of the urges, sure, but that was nothing. There was a whole world she hadn't experienced, only dabbled in as a Slayer. Fought demons all the time, sure, but wasn't one.

"Doesn't have to be all my show, you know," Spike drawled. She hadn't spoken up much. Hadn't complained, hadn't suggested so much as anything. "You wan' something, you can go ahead and say it."

She looked back at him, blinking her large blue eyes. "I know," She replied softly, screwing up her mouth in a contemplative expression. "But I'm fine right now. Really. I'm not ready to head to the Orphanage, or see Eddie. And if I saw Lyth, well, she'd probably just want the money I owe her." Her tone ended in mirth, casual, so Spike relaxed. Well as long as she wasn't feeling trapped. She was more docile than Spike would be, if he had to be herded around like a bomb that might explode. She was considerably calmer. Made things a bit easier, at least. He could only imagine how hard it would have been to deal with Buffy in this situation. She'd be mad as hell to have any kind of chaperone, He found he couldn't imagine Buffy into this sort of thing for long, too many things she'd never do or different choices she would make, which was probably for the best. He didn't have Buffy with him after all, he had Jade.

And in some ways, he thought he actually preferred it that way.

"If that's what you're worried 'bout, that fancy shack we were just stayin' at, remember that millionaire, Nabbit. Left some spendin' money as well. I nicked some." Nicked probably wasn't the best word. The money was there for emergencies after all, though Spike remembered Buffy worrying about Slayers coming to the safe house for a stint and leaving with shopping spree money, so she hadn't told too many about it. Spike knew, which was in some cases, just as bad, although he'd been sparing enough. Hadn't gone overboard. Just some money to do them for the next while, there was no harm in that. 'Sides, they should be paid for their efforts. At least him. Keeping a dangerous Vampire out of the way of the Slayerettes for a while. Good enough. "Not that I want it all going to that bint," He added as a second thought.

Jade smiled, a small one, but effectual in how it lit up her face. "I was joking. I think I have enough money left in my accounts for it." She frowned then, in thought. "Though I left my bank card, and the rest of my IDs back in San Francisco." Slayer HQ, of course. Made sense.

"You really didn't think you were coming back, then." It was a statement, but he held it like a question. Jade's face grew somber, and she shrugged.

"Not alive." She answered honestly. Her hand fiddled with the edge of her jacket, rolling the material between her fingers. Her drop in demeanor made him realise he'd directed them a bit too dark.

"We'll have some spendin' money tonight, anyway." He said, to redirect her. It worked, earning a confused and curious expression rather than a gloomy one.

"For what?" She asked, regaining that sparkle in her eyes. He didn't quite know what she liked to do, not shopping, as he might have thought with Buffy. No, this one liked staying at home playing video games and watching TV. Turned out that she wasn't big on the going outside at all hours, that had come with the Slaying package. Still, didn't hurt to break her out of her comfort zone every once in a moon. He didn't know how she'd feel about this particular soiree, but it was to get them in town, in a place primarily, if not completely, inhabited by demons.

"For some good ol' fun," he teased her, knowing she had a hard time with hints and elusion. She promptly shut her trap, albeit with a frustrated expression, and he smirked to himself. Was nice to know he could rile her a bit, even if she pretended to be laidback and relaxed, the concept of knowing there was a secret but not what it was bothered her. Was more fun, her not knowing, than what they actually had planned.

* * *

"We're at a… bar." Jade spoke with some disbelief. She looked up to where he stood at her shoulder. "Part of the training?"

"I suppose," Spike said, not entirely convincing. He wasn't really trying to be. He gazed complacently into the crowd, somehow blending in, even though he looked more human than most. He had led her in here, confidently and easily. She hadn't been to it before. Haven's one clubbing attraction, the Fragment, she had, at Lyth's behest and with extreme reluctance, but this was underground, and though they had waltzed back some seedy looking characters and dilapidated walls, the bar itself was exceptionally more classy. More than Jade would have expected, for the crowd it attracted. She saw a couple of human faces, but her inherent Slayer senses told her that more of them than not were Vampires. "Figured we could get back out in the world for a bit." He glanced at her, scrutinizing her skeptical expression. "There aren't any humans here, luv. Take a whiff."

She hesitated for only a fraction of a moment. Holding her breath, or rather, not was becoming habit to her. But now she did as he bid, breathing in carefully. She held the redolence on her tongue, as if tasting fine wine, she let all the aromas wash through. There were so many, and in the beginning it had been overwhelming, all the enhanced scents and tastes, in so much more detail and quantity than she was used to. But over the last month, in the forest surrounding the cabin there were so many different aromas, so hard to sift through it had been nearly impossible to distinguish, but with Spike's assistance and her practice, she was getting better.

So now, instead of an overwhelming array of sensory information, she could slowly tell the differences.

The first she focused on, unintentionally or not, was the scent that was the most familiar to her. Spike, lingering close beside her, the smell of leather and cigarette smoke and barest hint of nail polish. She had his odor stored in her memory, instantly able to recognize it. She focused on it for a second, and then moved past him. Lots of different aromas then, not as recognizable or as easily sorted. The demons' odor were pungent, the oaky and astringent scent that Spike said they would be. The vampires smelled a bit different, of blood mainly, but a distinct lack of sweat, like a human might. The hardest part was trying to tell the demons apart, even if there were several species, some she recognized, she wasn't knowledgeable enough to know the differences.

She did know one thing for sure, at least.

"No humans," Jade echoed with a relaxed nod. Spike smirked at her, directing her over to the bar. She hopped onto the stool beside his, spinning only slightly as she knocked against the counter. The bartender was currently turned away from them, dealing with another customer, but Jade wasn't in a hurry. Wasn't really a big fan of alcohol either, but she wasn't sure how an order of water would go over. Especially here.

It wasn't as alien as she thought a demon bar should be. Classy, as she had thought when she had first come in here, cozy even. Music trickled loudly through the speakers, some she actually recognized. Not that she expected Klingon Opera or something, but she was surprised it wasn't more eccentric. She could even see, over Spike's shoulder, a karaoke machine up on a little stage. She had the shortest image of Spike being up there, singing, a huge wave of curiosity crashing over her thinking what it would be like. She knew he did sing. In their trek across Russia, when she had been in the back of the truck during the days, she could hear him sing to the radio. A low, sultry voice that was ultimately disarming. She had no interest in the karaoke machine for herself; her singing should be limited to the shower, or not at all.

"Some might trail in later," Spike was warning her, his fingers laid flat to his forehead as he leaned into his elbow, looking towards her. "Not exclusive. Just a bit demon-y here. Most of them will stick clear."

"Have you been here before?" Jade asked, surprised by his insight.

"Yeah, once or twice. But it's under new management now."

"How do you know?"

Spike pressed his lips together, an altogether contemplative expression on his face as he gazed down at her. His voice was clipped, matter-of-fact when he answered her. "Got a call from Angel night after we moved here."

"Why?" Jade frowned. "What would he care about the bar, or whichever management it's under?"

Spike's lip twitched. "Old friend of 'is. Speaking of the devil…" Spike looked pointedly away from her, towards the bar, shifting his body so he looked unsuspecting. Jade heard the footsteps, as quiet as they were under the cacophony of the bar, someone approaching them. Jade bit back her curiosity to take a glance. Not before Spike did, and he was still faced forward, pretending to be oblivious. He couldn't pretend for much longer. The footsteps stopped right behind them.

"Do I spy a familiar peroxided vampire, or is the look just catching on?"

Spike smirked as he turned towards the demon. "And wouldn't you be the one talk for strange looks, Lorne?"

And he wasn't wrong. There was nothing overly grotesque about the man—the demon that came up to them now. In fact, he was stylishly dressed, his hair gelled back, with an old-styled cravat at his throat. His extremely green throat. He was one of the more humanoid looking demons that she had seen, except for the vivid hues of his skin and eyes. His skin was such a brilliant, overwhelming viridian, in a score of different shades, from lighter to darker. He had a deep divot in his chin, and a very accentuated nose, reminding Jade a little of the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard of Oz. He had bright red eyes, so large and defining, in a color that could have been described as demonic red or blood red, but somehow weren't intimidating at all. He had bright red lips and red eye shadow, even his suit was red, and still didn't look Christmas-y at all.

"You wish you could pull this off, Sugar." Lorne returned flamboyantly, with a confidence Jade could envy. Lorne turned to Jade, then, glancing her way with a red lipped smile. "And hello, gorgeous. You with the big lug here?"

"No," Jade said at the same time Spike said "Yes." Startled, she glanced at him, but he was nonchalantly staring back at the green skinned demon.

"She's here with me, Green Bean." Spike said, in a way that was almost possessive, but it couldn't have been, not coming from Spike. So instead, it was casual, the white-haired vampire leaning back easily into the counter at his back as he swivelled towards Lorne.

"Well it's just dandy to meet a friend of Spike's. Didn't think he'd have any." Lorne said, not too seriously, a teasing banter between the two. It was lighthearted, but Jade felt it was more of a farce than anything, a darker undertone that wasn't spoken of.

"I'm Jade. Nice to meet you." She smiled, with more courtesy than she had shown Clem—she still felt terrible about that, but she had been so stuck in gloom socializing had drained her already kaput batteries. She stuck out her hand and Lorne clasped it between his bright green ones.

"Well, aren't you a dear." Lorne crooned. "So nice, for a vampire. She's kind of like that Harmony."

Spike snorted, immediately insisting, "She's nothing like Harmony. She's got her soul, Lorne. And even without it, nothing like that whiny, blonde, irritating—"

"Ah. Another Souled Vampire to join the club. Like—"

"Nothing like Captain Forehead either." Spike interrupted, his eyes cutting a glare at the green demon.

"Well, if you insist." Lorne dropped Jade's hand with another smile at her. Beaming and ostentatious, the demon glanced back to Spike. "Dropped by my little bar, have you? It's no Caritas—not that you were ever there, but it's getting there. With pizzazz."

"Returned to your old life as the Host, have you?" Spike asked with a glint in his eyes.

"That's right, Sugar. Back to the old singing grind."

"That enough for you, then?" Spike asked, his tone low, oozing nonchalance, but Jade knew him better than that. He was prodding, seeing what kind of reaction he could gauge. Jade didn't know why, not for that, she had no idea who Lorne was, or how they knew each other. The memories she had glimpsed from the Scoobies' dead friends didn't help her here, the barest glimpse of Wesley hadn't really given her anything either. So she just sat back, mute, without even a glass to wrap her fingers around, watching the two converse.

"Look, sugar, if Angelcakes asked you to come here and sweet-talk me—well, first point he asked the wrong person, and second, I'm done. No more of that barrelling into the thick of it come what may and hang the consequences."

"I'm not Angel's lackey," Spike said, a bit affronted, but he shrugged his shoulders as if it didn't bother him. "Just in the neighborhood, Lorne. Thought we'd get a drink or two."

"Well you came to the right place. Louie. Quit yabbering and fix these two dolls up with a drink on the house, will ya?" Lorne looked past them to the bartender, a lizard demon that reminded Jade of the Tom Cribb who had died on the mission against Mandy. "Love to stay and chat, but I gotta miiiingle." He sang the last part, a clear tone that Jade envied, almost believing for a moment, that the Host was carefree and a little shallow.

Spike, however, wasn't convinced. As Lorne ventured to move back from the vampires, he spoke up, saying in a lackadaisal tone, "So you don't care what happened to Wesley, then."

Lorne stopped, his mouth gaping, open a little, then he shut it assuredly. "Bad things happen all the time sweetheart. Sometimes you just have to move on and listen to the music." With less self-confidence than before, the red-suited demon hurried away, his smile back to full brilliance as he approached the next group of patrons.

Spike was shaking his head with a exasperated smirk, turning towards the admonished bartender and giving him his order. Jade, her eyes barely off of Lorne's retreating back, quickly mumbled Spike's order, and when it came, passed it over to the white-haired vampire without a second's hesitation. Spike looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "It was on the house," he reminded her, his finger pressed to the glass but not yet accepting it. "Shoulda chose something you wanted."

"I don't really like alcohol," Jade explained nonchalantly. "Never had. Go ahead; enjoy it."

Spike shrugged, sliding the glass fully over to him. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" He asked with a playful gleam in his eye, lascivious even. Jade couldn't help but smile at it, finding it a bit amusing when he teased flirting with her. Amusing because it wasn't legitimate, and she preferred it that way. Just because she no longer had a telltale blush didn't mean she was any better at hiding her embarrassment.

"Maybe," Jade said contemplatively. "What's the story with Lorne over there?"

"Not much to tell," Spike answered, sounding bored. "Just another demon who joined Angel's cause for a while. Left near the end. Little before the end."

"Why'd he leave?" Jade asked with another glance at the Host as he weaved expertly through the crowd, through demons alike, slowly heading towards the stage.

"I didn't know him that well. Not quite buds. But he was heartbroken, I 'spect. Not so into the valiant charge to death as Angel is. Didn't like the fact everyone doesn't always make it. Don't know. But he did his part for the final scheme, and got out. Can't blame him. Hell, I ditched Angel a month later too." He drained his glass.

"Did Angel ask you to come here?" Jade asked.

"No. Knew I wouldn't if he asked me outright. Told me he was here though, and I figured I owed Captain Forehead a favor. He probably feels bad about the way he chased him off. Wants him to rejoin the White Hats. I don't care either way. Got a free drink out of it though," He raised his second glass, Jade's eyes focused on his fingers before jumping up to his face. In the background, the music changed, now to a sensational tune from Lorne. She was content to listen for a few minutes, soaking it in before turning her attention back to Spike.

"You think Lorne'll come back? Help Angel again?"

"If he's got any sense in his head he'll stick clear. Not a great living-to-tell-the-tale rate with Angel. Lost most of his little gang over the years."

"That why you left?"

"Self-preservation's never been first on my mind," Spike said with a smile that revealed the edges of his teeth, an almost smirk. It was true. Spike threw himself into the fray without reservation, finding that the thrill of a fight had to have danger in it too. "But no, not really. Got tired of Forehead. And Buffy wanted me back. To help the bitty Slayerettes." He added, the clarification as an afterthought.

"Right." Jade nodded, a bit numbly. She didn't need a reminder of Buffy's influence over him; she knew that already. Still, it had been her fault for asking, and of course it made sense.

"You look glum, Slayer." Spike said with a bit of a smirk. "You're not—" His expression changed from prurient to serious as he looked over her head. "Ah, sod. Meals on legs incoming."

Jade tensed, curling one of her fists into a very tight ball. They hadn't been this close to humans, Spike had just been letting her smell them from afar. She didn't like being this close, probably wasn't ready, but then Spike was taking her un-clenched hand and wrapping his fingers around it, pulling her from the stool. There were three, young adults but older than Jade, walking easily into the bar.

"Been here long 'nuf anyway," Spike said in her ear, his lips brushing her hair from his closeness, even though he didn't need to be that close for her to hear him, she wouldn't have said differently. With his body in between her and the newcomers, they headed towards the door. Not wanting to take a chance, Jade rolled her finger under her thumb and promptly broke it. She bit back a gasp of pain, accepting it gladly as it removed any errant thoughts she had as she looked at the humans. No hunger, no desire, she could look at and even smell them placidly as Spike pushed her past. She glanced at them, two women and a man, chattering casually to each other, not put out by the demons at all. Not surprising, as they lived in Haven. Lyth had dragged her to one from time to time. With the pain in her finger, and the loss of her hunger, Jade wasn't even bitter towards them, didn't begrudge their smiles or their humanity. She just let herself be led out of the bar by Spike, glad that the ability to control her hunger had her one step closer to being like those humans again than it was being a demon.


	16. Night Seventy

NIGHT SEVENTY

"Back to visit your old pal, then?" Jade asked him as Spike led them further downtown. And yeah, nearer to Lorne's demon bar, which was in the seediest heart of the place. He'd taken Jade out on patrol, not any specific place. It was a bit like old times, except for all of the differences. Most of them being that he wasn't usually _invited_ along to patrol with Buffy, a lot of it had just been him showing up and getting mouthed off at. It hadn't been stalking it had just been… interest. That was it. And if Buffy wasn't the most ungrateful chit around. Wouldn't even find Spike useful, thought he was just an annoyance, and how pitiful it had been to be downgraded from being the big bad scary. Not so much of a flicker of fear from that lot, especially the Niblet, who had just waltzed into his crypt alone on many occasions without a care in the world.

And it was a different place. No Sunnyhell, that was for sure, although there were enough similarities. Small town, little hellhole, although quite a few more demons roaming the streets. Humans were fewer and further between and not so bloody oblivious. Patrol wasn't the same as it was either. Haven's low violence rule meant no outright killing, not lest they deserved it. Tumbles could be had, but staking out the cemetery to catch fledglings as they rose was a no. A safe place for demons, if such a thing could exist, they at least gave it a try here. Spike doubted it'd last forever, but that didn't matter much to him. A demon, he blended in in most places, didn't need some magic whammied land to assure it for him.

And it wasn't exactly the streets they were patrolling. Due to their agility, they patrolled from the roofs rather than the streets. It was easier, quicker and gave them a better vantage point. And meant they were a little further away from tempting blood bags on legs. That said, Jade's restraint astounded Spike. Must better at controlling her bloodlust than mister-feed-on-rats-for-a-century, and the white-haired vampire couldn't help but being proud. And a little willing to boast about it to great Forehead the next time he saw him. She'd gotten close a couple times, the child in Russia and the family where she had to gore herself to get out of there, but in Haven, she was more relaxed and still more focused. Not so unfamiliar territory, the Slayer was back in a place where she was comfortable. And it was astonishing, for a young vampire. Spike certainly hadn't shown that restraint after he had turned, but he'd had no reason to. It was part of being a vampire. Feeding when hungry, and sometimes just for fun.

Thrown those days out a little too quickly after he'd gotten chipped, but there was no choice in the matter. Wasn't about the strength of his own moderation, it'd been about what he could eat and what he couldn't. Pig's blood, as undesiring as it had been at the time, was food, food he could get at without splitting his skull open. Hadn't been a question of his morality, like with Jade or Angel. Just cold bloody turkey. Though nearly starving to death and having nothing but animal blood to drink made him appreciate it more than having nothing at all. And there'd only been a couple times he'd deviated since then. When Dru came to town, caught him a freshly dead human to drink—and he'd hesitated, even back then—and when the First was making Spike its bitch. He didn't remember those kills as well, or the taste even, just fragments of a much less saner time. Still, only twice. Never in his right mind with his right soul. And he didn't have any fear of doing it again, unlike the Poof. Spike 'spected it would always be in the back of Forehead's mind, but he moved past it. Jade would do that and more. Be better. Be better than Angel and better than Spike. Be immutably human because that was what she was, beating heart or no beating heart. She was a whole dimension away from the demons they lived among.

And the demons they watched now, to keep in check. It wasn't a mission or a challenge even. Haven's no killing rule was enough to stem the violence, nor was there a sudden influx of demons they had to keep in line. This was Haven after all. Different set of rules than the outside world. And he'd even played by them for a while, after he'd left Buffy to her own devices. He'd probably gotten bored of it eventually. Might have gotten bored of it now, if he wasn't with Jade. Still, there wasn't more than a scuffle or two. So yeah, he had headed them back into familiar territory for the end of the night, leading them back to _Venia_ , Lorne's little bar. And no, he wasn't doing it because Peaches had asked him too. And he didn't have much stock in Lorne either. Hadn't known him long enough. Most they had in common was that they had loved Fred, and felt her loss. And Spike had no words to help the Host with that, to overcome his own personal demons. They all dealt with loss in their own way. If it helped Lorne to go back to his roots, then fine. Still, Spike doubted all was well with the green demon, as much as he tried to pretend. And Spike cared enough for him to at least swing by. Wouldn't push and prod, he was no Angel, but he'd stop by. For old time's sake. Plus, maybe they'd get a free drink again.

"Nothin' wrong with ending the night with a drink." Spike answered noncommittally. He cast a smirk at his companion. "Or in your case, sodding water."

Jade smiled. "I like water. Didn't need to drink much else, before. Now…"

"I consider blood more food, myself," Spike interjected. "Drinking is a whole different category."

"You would know," Jade teased, though the truth was that Spike hadn't drunk a lot in a while. Couldn't even remember the last time he'd gotten drunk. Just a beer here or there, maybe a couple, but not an overwhelming amount. And being a vampire, it did take him quite a bit to get drunk—though he could definitely get there, given the right inclination. Just hadn't the reason to get bone-slobbering pissed. After his off-on-again relationship with Buffy, where she'd call him back into the fray, stringing him along, but never giving him anything solid, anything real, well he'd retreat to a drunken haze for a couple days or weeks. Tried to get over the haunting of his soul that was Buffy. But she was so dredged up in him, it was never. Alcohol was never enough, and the buzzing, throbbing pain in his head afterwards couldn't force her out either. Nothing, but his slim companion. Didn't think of Buffy as much when he was with Jade. Well, hell, he still thought of the blonde Slayer. But it didn't hurt. Nice, that.

And he led her down the streets and beneath them, to the underbelly where Venia awaited them. Past the little gate to make sure they had no weapons on them, which they didn't. Spike thought on that smugly. Jade and he didn't need weapons. They were a weapon, from their fangs to their strength. Never unarmed, as long as they had either.

They sidled up to the bar without incident and without question. As human as they looked, the inhabitants here weren't one to interrogate. And Lorne was pretty fair at making the club open to everyone.

Or not quite everyone, as they'd find out.

It was karaoke night, and Spike was trying not to cringe at the incoherent warble coming from a couple of scaly, hair-tufted demons that fancied themselves a talented duo. He could see Jade's grimace on her face as well, her vampire-heightened hearing giving her a whole new sense to appreciate them by. He smirked at her discomfort, ducking near to her to murmur in her ear. "If you think you'd do better, luv, sure you could take the stage."

She quailed, shaking her head in a minute spasm. "Nope. I'd much rather listen," She declared with vehemence, and then winced as the singers hit a particularly high and butchered note. She followed him to the bar, where this time the bartender was much quicker to take their order, and Spike was soon twisting a weeping bottle of beer between his fingers. Jade however, had decided on water once more, sipping it more out of something to do. He decided not to tease her on abstaining from alcohol again, instead sharing in a relieved sigh when the demons vacated the stage.

They were there for a few more moments when Spike was alerted to the presence of Lorne. Hadn't seen him much since they had come in, the Host had only just started moving through the crowd before he approached the two vampires.

"Oh, friends," Lorne said in a highly cheerful voice as he sidled up to them, his hands held wide. "Just the two dolls I wanted to see."

"Didn't seem like you wanted much to do with us last time." Spike drawled, surveying him with a raised eyebrow. Definitely up a level of excitement from the last time he and Jade had waltzed in here. And Spike knew better than to assume Lorne was as excitable as he let on. If Lorne wanted to pretend he was all dandy, free to just leave his old life behind with any strings attached, then fine, but Spike knew better. The thing about Angel was that he changed peoples' lives in a paramount way, more often for worse than for better. Sure, the Poof tried to save lives, did his fair share. But those that tagged along, the one that tried to follow in his white hat parade, well, they didn't fare so well. Doyle, Cordelia, Wes, Fred. Maybe Lorne was smart in getting out, but he wasn't unscathed. Spike knew there was more there than the careless, free-loving Host. But he wasn't a rescuer. Angel'd had his concerns, but the white-haired vampire didn't have to share them. Wasn't the swooping in and saving type.

"Pshaw," Lorne flapped his hand as if Spike had said the most disbelieving thing. "You got me all wrong, Sugar. I am just thrilled that you're showing your gorgeous faces around here." Lorne looked behind them to the bartender. "Louie, give these two heroes another drink on the house, will ya?" He glanced back to the vampires. "Now—"

"What's this about, Lorne?" Spike interrupted.

"Well," Lorne fiddled his hands together. "Seems like I have a slight problem, and ah, I was hoping—"

"Some problem you were hoping old friends could fix?" Spike jeered. "Shame we don't have much of a pull in your new old life, then." Sure, he'd probably help Lorne. Maybe make the demon grovel a bit first. And sure, Spike could be bribed well enough, but why make it easy? Less fun that way.

"Hey, now, Sugar," Lorne protested, and Spike was about to conjure up another statement, when he felt slight pressure on his arm. Jade had reached out, placing her lithe fingers on him, and he glanced at her, startled out of his company.

"We can help," Jade assured Lorne, ending the fun effectively. Of course. The swooping in an saving type, that was definitely Jade.

Lorne smiled beatifically. "Just what I love to hear. Come into my office, will ya?" Spike shrugged, scooping up his newly delivered beer, following the green demon through the crowd, rolling his eyes at the smiles and handshakes and 'hellos' and 'good to see yous' that Lorne seemed obligated to pass on to every single creature in his club. He led them to the back, through a door that opened into a private looking set of rooms, poshly decorated, and over to a table, where Lorne promptly sat down and gestured for the vampires to do the same. Jade settled into her chair fluidly and gracefully, unconcerned, whereas Spike followed with a disinterested shrug, sitting down next to her.

"What do you need?" Jade spoke first, her voice all too soft and concerned, whereas Spike just fixed Lorne with a stern gaze.

"Alright, so here's the thing. Get a lot of patrons here. Popular little place," Lorne smiled proudly, as if it was the only thing that mattered. "People like the no violence spell. In a town like Haven, where demons come to hide, they like a little safe place, you know?" He said it rhetorically, though Jade nodded in understanding. "Well, demons come to town for other reasons. Like bounty hunters. Bounty hunters who happen to find out that some of my frequenters are on their list, you know? So they've been staking out the place. You might notice that the club was a little on the less populated side tonight."

"We didn't," Spike answered dryly, ignoring Jade's berating glance. She didn't often see him rude, but bloody hell if that wasn't his shtick.

"Well no-one wants to head here if they're going to get picked off. They'll start going to some other establishment. Ick," Lorne shuddered, as if it was an atrocity to think of.

"Is there a point in here somewhere?" Spike asked.

"Well, I was hoping that you'd convince the bounty hunters to just, you know, back off a little. All the way out of town would be nice."

"Have you thought of asking Sheriff Hazim?" Jade questioned, sounding curious. "He doesn't like killing in this town." Ah, yes, the Prio Motu Demon. Even Spike hadn't tried to piss that demon off. Wasn't one to trifle with lightly. Hazim was a vicious fighter, and ruled with intimidation. Mostly fair, but he wasn't the type to send flowers to gain approval, that was for sure.

"True, true. But these Bounty Hunters drag their prizes out of town, dead _or_ alive. Hazim doesn't care much past the borders. And plus, he's not one for the innocent until proven guilty. I bring this forward, he'll just loop me in with the bad guys until he knows beyond a whisper of a doubt that this isn't some kind of deal—and it's not." Lorne insisted, looking at Spike's disinterested scoff. "But he'll shut down Venia until it's all sorted, and it's just a lot of hassle. But you dolls," Lorne perked up, gesturing at Jade and Spike, looking hopeful. "You could settle it yourself, no problem."

"Who are the bounty hunters?" Spike asked, curious. "Not the bloody Order of Taraka, is it?"

"No, no. A family of demons, the Miquot Clan I think they're called. You know them, then?" Lorne asked at the slight recognition flickering across Spike's face.

"Heard of them." Spike shrugged. He'd been around a while. Heard of quite a lot of societies, demons, the like. He knew enough of those demons to know it was doable. Not much of a trouble, not for Jade and him. Might even be fun. He glanced at Jade, who was already looking at him. She wanted to do it, he knew. Wanted to put her strength to some good use, and he couldn't for the unlife of him want to disappoint her, even to tease Lorne a little.

"Sod it, fine." Spike grumbled. "We'll be your white hats, Lorne."


	17. Night Seventy Two

NIGHT SEVENTY TWO

The pair of them stared determinedly into the darkness. Wasn't quite complete darkness, at least not for them. Jade could just make out the golden gleam of Spike's eyes, the full effects of vamp-face applied to their search. Not so much hers, just relying on her somewhat-better-than-a-human's sight instead, the same trepidation as always about letting her demon face come out. If she didn't see it and Spike didn't see it maybe it wouldn't exist. It was a stupid thought, she knew Spike was fairly comfortable with both human and demon faces, seeing more than enough in his lifetime, and she knew enough about him to know it wasn't a big deal. To him, anyway, but it was to her. She hated him seeing her in anything less than human, so she limited it as much as possible.

And as it was, they didn't really need it tonight. They'd been scoping out Lorne's bar for the last two nights, but they hadn't seen anything. Nothing that looked like bounty hunters, although that was a bit out of Jade's league and more into Spike's. She hadn't done a great deal of mixing among demons or hunting them for that matter, before she came to Haven. She'd killed a few after she'd become a Slayer, but it was mostly vampires that Pen had her fight. And not being the studious type, or never very good at it, Jade had learned better by fighting them, rather than reading about them in books. She had looked up the Miquot Clan so she at least knew what to look for, but other than appearance and some kind of description of bone knives coming out of their arms, Jade hadn't learned all that much.

Still, she wasn't worried. There was the trepidation that came from waiting, and the worry that they might not get to the Clan before the Clan got those on their list, although the Slayer in her was less concerned. The Slayer would note that those on the list—demons, were probably bad anyway, and thus, not altogether worth saving. That was what Pen had tried to teach her, but Jade knew better. Knew Demons like Lorne, and Nigel and Clem, where they weren't inherently bad, their races less dangerous than some. And then a demon like Hazim even, where his race was bloodthirsty and murderous, yet this Prio Motu demon was an upholder of justice, even if his moral center was firmly rooted in gray. And then of course, there was her and Spike.

Demons, though it was far, far from that simple. And all of it was like that. No black and white. As much as she had forgotten for a time, the thought of her losing her soul so scaring her—and it still did, but not so incomprehensibly she couldn't think straight—souls and demons and things weren't simple. Demons could do good things without a whisper of a soul in them, and humans could do catastrophically terrible things with them. Things that would earn them a spot on someone's kill list. But maybe the demons were innocent.

Either way, she'd do what she could to save them, and hopefully to stop the bounty hunters, remove them far, far away where they couldn't push a more deadly confrontation. Deadly for them, that was. From what she had researched, Jade didn't fear facing them. She and Spike were more than a match for them, the only question was how many of the clan had been sent. Just a couple, or more, it would be worth knowing, but they hadn't even caught a whisper of any of the hunters.

Not until now.

Two figures appeared onto the street, leaving the underground tunnel that led down to Venia. Jade knew they weren't the bounty hunters; their appearance was admittedly human, but as she listened hard, finding a distinct lack of anything, she knew the two weren't human.

Spike confirmed it with a whisper in her ear, "Vampires." That would have been the end of it, as they weren't the demons Spike and Jade were looking for, save for the sudden and small motions in their peripherals. Apparently they hadn't been the only ones waiting. They could make out the shadows moving to follow the two figures that hurried at inhuman speed across the street.

As the two vampires glanced around, cautious, but not aware, Jade caught a sight of their faces, recognizable to her. She turned towards Spike, who crouched beside her closely, on the roof they had made their vantage point. "I know the vampires. Antov siblings. The remaining two, Tony and Rosa. About three hundred years old."

Spike looked impressed, raising an eyebrow. "You keep an eye on the vampire community, do you? What, do you have a William the Bloody history book as well?" He teased her with that last comment, his lips twisted into a smirk, even as he spoke in hushed tones so no-one could overhear, particularly the two vampires they were discussing.

"I kept an eye on the ones of note," Jade corrected, stifling a laugh as Spike's brow furrowed, the vampire pouting out his bottom lip and looking affronted. "I meant in Haven. Why they were here. They crossed Dracula back a while ago. Fled here to escape him. Which was probably just a punishment Dracula didn't have to implement. But when I first came here, thought I should know the players."

Spike surveyed her, the faux hurt gone from his face and a contemplative expression there instead. "Smart," he observed matter-of-factly.

"There were three of them, but Marko was staked a little while back. By Bailey."

"Little Barbie?" Spike frowned in recognition. "Bet that pissed off his sibs."

"That, and they have thrall. As Dracula's progenies, he must have taught them. Not something I wanted to cross."

"What, were you scared, Slayer?" Spike taunted, his tone light, though Jade knew he wasn't one to run from a fight, and didn't have much respect for those that would.

"Just being careful." She answered, then turned from his visage to look back at the Antov siblings. "They're moving."

"We'll follow," He said, his eyes on the prize now. "Wait for the bounty hunter sods to make the first move."

And they did, as they found the shadows move, so did the vampires, trailing the Antov siblings down the street and into the more dilapidated downtown areas—more fit for a vampire nest. Jade shot a worried look up into the sky, which was admittedly still quite dark, but it had gotten rather late. If the Miquot Clan were hoping to follow the vampires to their nest and attack them during daytime while they couldn't retreat, well, Jade and Spike wouldn't be able to go very far either. Spike glanced back at her, noting her worried look, pausing after a fluid jump to look back at her.

"Got just over two hours, Bloody Mary," He reassured her. The sun wasn't good news for either of them, but at least Spike could survive under the rays of it a bit longer than she could. As strong as she was being a Slaypire, she still was just a fledgling. Too susceptible to the light for her to be at ease with it. But he knew, better even than she did, so she relaxed, focusing instead on their task. The two vampires continued speaking to each other in a language Jade could only barely discern as Russian, as per their last name and origin, however it just as likely could be Bulgarian or Czech, so terrible was her ear for languages. They seemed unaware of their tails, the demon and the vampire variety, not noticing when the shadows drew closer as the vampires entered a narrow alley.

Jade and Spike shared a look, the both of them silently deciding to jump down from their roof vantage point and down to the streets themselves. Jade drew near to Spike, thankful for her own dark attire, which consisted of black jeans and a sweater, the pale of her skin being the most conspicuous, the palest white that Spike shared with her. But they were one with the shadows, and Jade even shifted her visage to give her a better glimpse.

She could see them now. Instead of shadows, they were solid forms, reptilian looking as they were in the demon database she had glanced through. Spikes that reminded Jade of a dinosaur, the stegosaurus maybe, jutted out from the top of their head, in varying length and amount. And she could see quite a few of them.

"Lorne never mentioned how many there were," Jade muttered to Spike, stretching up towards him so she didn't have to speak over the barest of whispers. He smirked back at her, obviously unworried. There was a flurry of activity ahead, then a sudden stop as the Antov siblings realised they weren't alone. Cold fingers brushed against Jade's equally cool skin as Spike entwined his hand around her wrist, pulling her to a stop, behind him, wanting to watch first before they barged in. Jade watched the figures make themselves known, at least a dozen that surrounded their prey, so far as unaware of Jade and Spike as the Antov siblings were.

The woman, Rosa, had arched a brow, her nearly white-blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, dead straight. Her vampire visage had overtaken any human features, and her golden eyes glinted back at their company. Her brother was stockier than Rosa's lithe form, and he stood shoulder-to-shoulder, a more furious look on his face compared to Rosa's bored one.

"So that's what that smell was," Rosa commented dryly, her lips drawn back to reveal large fangs.

"Told you it wasn't me," Tony muttered back. He glanced back at the Miquot Clan demons, tossing back his hair as a thick lock of his white-blonde hair fell in front of his forehead. "Who the hell are you guys?"

One of the demons stepped forward. "I am Ivak of the Miquot Clan. There's a bounty to collect on you."

"Really? Actual money now?" Rosa spoke, her golden eyes shifting from the speaking demon to her brother. Her disinterested expression lightened somewhat as she inquired hopefully, "How much? Could I collect it?"

"Hey!" Tony protested, growling back at his impertinent sister.

" _Both_ of you," Ivak clarified in his warbled tone.

"Worth a try," Rosa shrugged, ignoring Tony's glare.

"I can't believe that you—" Tony started, his angry tone raising an octave or two as the demons surrounding them stiffened and moved closer, the atmosphere changing as the vampires too shifted into attack pose.

"The bounty says wanted dead," Ivak continued, his beady eyes focused on the bickering siblings, drawing a slimy tongue in front of his teeth. He nodded his chin in a flagrant, excessive gesture to the members of his clan, drawing Rosa and Tony's focused glowers. There was a _shing!_ A pungent odor lit the air as bone knives protruded out of the demons' scaly arms, and they advanced, carrying their weapons in their hands.

"Oh. Right." Rosa said as the reptilians fell upon them.

As old as the vampires were, these weren't humans. They were demons, strong and fast and out numbering them, and accurate as hell. Rosa was caught by a bone knife to the shoulder and fell, cursing, the demons falling upon her as Tony was backed into a corner.

Jade transferred her weight to the balls of her feet, waiting on Spike's go ahead. She glanced at him, and he met her gaze.

"'Nuf proof." Spike said succinctly, then with a wink at her, he'd had enough of waiting and threw himself into the fray, Jade close on his heels.

"Oi, you blighters." Spike drawled as he came into view, in full swagger before the demons, who turned with hisses to see him. "S'not the best town for bounty hunt'n. I suggest you all move on." His lips twitched into a smirk. "But it be a bit more fun if you don't."

"Do not interfere, vampire." Ivak snarled. "The Miquot Clan does not back down."

Spike shrugged. "Fine with me. Just thought I'd give you sods a chance." He threw himself into the fight as quickly as the demons turned their attention to him. Jade followed, dashing towards the group that held Rosa, knocking away one of them as the blade sunk into Rosa's arm, probably meaning to remove the vampire's arm from her body. Disarm the vampires—literally—before dragging them out of town to kill them. The blade whistled past Jade's open palms as she dodged the sharp edge and kicked the closet demon in the stomach instead. She was aware that they were rushing to the rescue of vampires, evil soulless creatures in the views of Slayers, and rightly so. However, this was Haven. Named exactly for what it was: a sanctuary for demons. The place was kept hidden by magic and the peace was kept by Sheriff Hazim, and these bounty hunters were violating the probity of the town. Jade had kept to the rules while she was here. She staked the vampires who failed the rules, who killed or tortured or made a scene that was frowned upon in Haven. It kept the fragile peace between the many different races of demons who held refuge there, and so whether these vampires were deserving of a dusting or not, she'd protect them. At least for now.

The demons didn't hesitate to defend themselves against Spike and Jade as soon as they were revealed, hissing and spitting at the vampires. And immediately, Jade found her worry that they were outnumbered faded, replaced with a euphoria. This was going to be a fight. A good one. She hadn't had one in far too long. There was no fear, no hesitation, just relaxation and even an excitement. There was no holding back, not in this fight, no apprehension that she might slip out of control. It was Spike and her, and from a glance at him, she could see the same giddy grin reflected on his face as he slipped in and out between their foes gracefully. He had been missing the fight as well, and now danced with a fearless exuberance, laughing as he both dealt blows and received them.

And Jade was the same, swinging her leg in a pirouette, launching the closest Miquot demon far from her, raising her elbow in front of her face to knock away another bone knife that had been launched at her. There was a dull throb as the blade sliced through her sleeve, but it was forgotten in the moment, the pain inconsequential as she launched herself at her opponents, lightning fast and unstoppable. This was good, she thought to herself, as she caught a demon by the throat and slammed his head into the pavement, her knee jutting out to strike another in the stomach. No holding back, it was _fun_ to be this fast and strong. To be able to deflect and react with such ease without compunction or holding back. She was a ball of energy, twisting and turning and dancing.

She glanced at Spike, whose cheek was dripping from a long gash across his face, a similar slice on his shoulder and neck, but his eyes were shining, bright and blue, a wide smile on him as he looked back at her. Her eyes focused then, on the demon coming up behind him. She jumped then, and Spike caught her with ease, as if they had practiced before. And they had, against each other over the last month, to the point they recognized each other's moves, and Jade had a feeling Spike knew her strength better than she knew herself, telling her when to hold back and when not to. And he swung her then, letting her outstretched foot kick one of the demons in the skull, who dropped back with a hiss. His hands were around her waist as if they were dancing, and they were, in a way Jade had experienced her whole life. Fighting was in her blood, even in the short time before she knew she was a potential, before she became Slayer. She could avoid it for a while, but in the end, this was where she belonged, in the thick of the fight.

She wasn't used to having a partner, at least not one near her level of fighting. Bennett had tried, patrolling with her so that she wouldn't be alone, and he had tried his best to be formidable, for a human, but that was what he was, human, and there was part of her that had always had to be vigilant, always needing to protect him. Not so with Spike, who didn't need her protection and would probably knock her out if she tried. But no, she didn't have to worry—too much—about the blood on Spike, or the blows he took, because they were nothing to him, just part of the dance, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Neither would she.

She leaped out of Spike's grasp to bear another demon to the ground, ignoring his futile cut across her upper arm as she choked the breath from him until his body was limp under her ministrations. Then she leapt back to her feet, glancing about. She picked up a fallen bone knife, flinging it through the air. Not unsurprisingly, it missed its mark, only barely slicing the leg of another demon as it embedded itself in the ground. Though Jade had always preferred fighting with weapons as a Slayer rather than hand-to-hand combat, that had extended to her bow and her machete, and not throwing weapons of any sort. Her strength and her speed were greater, but not her accuracy. She shrugged at the realisation, resorting then to her knuckles as she struck at another one. They were rather hardy, being able to take hers and Spike's punches, but not hardy enough.

She felt the edge of a blade cut the back of her shoulder, but before she could even turn to defend herself, she could see the flicker of movement and Spike's gleeful growl as he pulled back her attacker, landing a punch on the scaly head that knocked the demon right to the ground. It didn't get back up, and Jade could see now that the hunters had thinned. Thinned, knocked out or dead, but none were fleeing. Some code of loyalty or perhaps family, they refused to leave the fallen, even as those standing were less and less. Jade could respect that, but it didn't mean she'd pull her punches. Instead, she only increased them, seeing the end was close.

She turned towards Spike and he towards her, their shoulders brushing as they stood back to back for a second, sighting out the battlefield, then jumped back into the mix. Jade never tired of watching Spike fight. What he lacked in finesse he made up for in pure tenacity, a burning glee in his eyes at the simple fun of it all. With a heavy boot he knocked another to the ground, and Jade smashed the last one's head against the wall. She stood for a moment, her chest rising up and down as if she needed a breath, more out of habit than anything else. None of the creatures stirred, at least not alarmingly, most too wounded or hurt to climb back up to their feet.

She smiled brilliantly at Spike, who smirked back, equally animated.

"Been far too bloody long," Spike grinned.

"Yes," Jade breathed in agreement. "Nice to just… fight. No holding back." She meant fighting against an enemy instead of a friend, but Spike looked impish, playing at affronted.

"Oi!" He muttered in protest. He took a step towards her and she backed habitually, her back hitting the solid alley wall, a crumbling brick that had taken a couple of hits during the fight.

"Used to holding back, are you?" Spike asked in a low voice, the energy just emanating off of him, so much that he could barely stay still. He pressed an open palm to his chest, mock heartbroken. "That really hurts a bloke. Making me feel incompetent and the like."

She smiled apologetically, but couldn't quite keep the grin off her face, bouncing on her feet so much that she was nearly vibrating. "Far from it," she assured him, and his eyelids sunk halfway, gazing at her half-lidded. He had crowded her in front of the wall now, their knees almost touching, playing at intimidation but being far, far from it. His white-blonde curls were in disarray, giving him a foppish, endearing look, though the blood on his marble skin added some seriousness to it. But not enough, not for her to quail in his presence. But as he neared, the energy changed abruptly, instead, provocative rather than playful.

"Good," Spike muttered, licking his lips. His eyes were wild, sporadic and dashing, settling on her eyes, then lowering to her lips, and she felt her stomach tense, her whole body still as suddenly, without much warning, he leaned in. He moved, and she reacted, much as they had done in the fight, except instead of dancing and fighting around each other, his mouth was suddenly on hers, descending with a ardor that quashed any timidity of hers, and she met his lips with the same fervor. He tasted like blood and cigarettes, the scent of leather in her nose, and all the scents of Spike. She remembered kissing the demon, how she had changed her shape to look like Spike, to feel like Spike, but it was a poor substitute compared to the real thing, to actually feeling him, warm from the fight, his leather jacket beneath her fingers as she curled her fingers around his shoulder, pulling him nearer to her, even as her shoulder protested, her sore wound grinding up against the wall, completely forgotten.

Instead there was _Spike_. It hadn't quite sunk in yet that this was Spike she was kissing—that was kissing her. No chaste, quick kiss either, or a smooch to bring her back from the dead. This was euphoria and ecstasy, one hand wrapped around her waist, digging deep into her hip, the other hand around her neck, keeping her close as if she even wanted to pull away. With a hesitation borne of fear he might disapprove, one of her hands trailed up to the back of his skull, touching his hair like she had never had the courage to do before. Not gelled at the bottom, it was surprisingly soft beneath her touch. And she was greedy for the touch. She'd been arm's length with him all this time, too nervous, too hesitant to step past the line, but he had done it first, his lips battling hers just as intently, passionate, though not gentle. It didn't matter. She'd take anything, gentle or rough from him. Wouldn't complain. This was Spike. She was putty in his hands, nearly literally now, astounded that he could be cold, yet his touch ignited fire in her in a way she didn't think would be possible after she had died. But she was wrong, and she hadn't felt so alive since the shower, and just thinking what he had done for her then made her feel even more warm inside, as if she had a beating heart again.

His lips pulled her bottom lip between his own, one gentle, teasing nip with his teeth that stung but didn't hurt, a feeling of pleasure rather than anything else. And then he pulled back, leisurely, rather than with alarm, and their chests rose and fall in unison, Jade taking breaths she didn't need as her eyes found Spike's. He looked surprised, but not regretful, with a whole of emotions that were unreadable in the span of his light blue eyes, but after a searching gaze, his lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, reassuring her. Perhaps it was in the spur of the moment—a traitorous thought that had plagued her even through the kiss, though she had done her best to push it away. And though she knew that the kiss likely meant more to her than it did to him, as long as he didn't regret it…

His eyes flickered back to her lips again, and though his shoulders had pulled back, he was still entwined around her, his hand shifting from the back of her neck to the sharp line of her jaw, thumb resting their affectionately. He shifted, and he might have kissed her again, if not for a sudden, haughty voice that brought them out of their reverie, the world they had lingered in for a few seconds where only the two of them existed.

"So did you leap in to save us in hopes we would join in your makeout session, or…" Rosa's voice, and Jade could see her over Spike's shoulder now as her eyes focused, remembering that they were hardly alone, and their private space was littered by unconscious demon bodies and two bleeding, very unsouled vampires. Rosa was looking at them expectantly, her hand on her hip. Her blonde hair was somehow, incredibly immaculate, still stock-straight in a way Jade had never managed but would always envy, though there was blood and a bit of grime on Rosa's face, her hair was perfect. Rosa had raised a eyebrow-less, bumpy brow, her voice sounding languid and bored, a slight, mocking smile on her dark red lips. Jade's eyes flickered, suddenly very, very grateful she no longer had a blush to give her away as she was struck with embarrassment. Kissing Spike in front of people, something that had been personal and intimate, in front of two vampires who were staring at them hungrily and a bit skeptically.

Spike made a low growl in his throat, sounding like frustration as he released Jade, turning towards the two siblings almost regretfully. Jade busied herself by tucking her loose hair behind her ears. "Yeah, yeah. You're welcome. You can get out of here now." Spike had a sneer back in his tone, dismissive to Rosa and Tony.

"Yeah, I'm fine with that," Tony spoke aloud, rubbing at a particularly nasty gash on his forehead as Rosa shrugged. "Not that we needed any help," the vampire added as a side note, earning a eye-roll from his sister.

"Shut up, Tony. This is a mess. We came this shit-hole so we _didn't_ have to watch out. Now we've lost Marko, and some idiot is sending goons after us."

Tony rose to his full height, towering over his sister, his expression turning a bit more serious and bloodthirsty as he gazed at the fallen Miquot Demons. "Well, then we better make sure these ones don't come to tell on us, yeah?" He fingered a bone knife that had been stuck in his thigh, and took a step towards the demon.

Jade moved in recompense, meaning to step around Spike but he moved up too, the same thing on his mind. "No slaughter for you," Spike said firmly. "We'll handle this. Git."

Tony scowled fiercely. "These demons tried to kill us. I want a bit of their blood on my hands."

"You get to leave with your lives instead," Spike disagreed cheerfully, relaxed and casual, yet still intimidating. Tony held his gaze for a few long seconds, defiant. Rosa let out a impatient sigh.

"Let them do what they want. Hurry _up_. I want something to eat." At her words, her brother reluctantly and slowly turned from the bounty hunters, though he kept twirling the bone knife in his meaty fingers. With another sigh, Rosa latched onto his arm, pulling him back. The two siblings departed, albeit with a few looks over their shoulders, Rosa throwing out a, "I owe you a beer," pointedly at Spike, winking at him before they disappeared into the night.

Spike shook his head. "Sure the town would be a bit better without that naff," He said, looking at Jade a bit hopefully. She bit back a laugh, smiling as she nodded her head regretfully.

"No killing," She reiterated Haven's rules, then looked down at their fallen foes. Spike followed her gaze.

"What are we going to do with this lot?" He asked with a sigh. Some of them were still alive. "Hazim'll have a bloody fit if he sees this in town." Jade smirked at the thought that Spike was just as worried about their Prio Motu Deputy as she was. Wasn't smart to antagonize the beast, especially one without human reserve or morals. Order in his town came first, before anything else.

"Drag them out of Haven," Jade offered. "And hope they don't come back?"

"Yeah, that'll do. Think they know what to expect, if they come back again." He glanced at her, the business dropping from his expression as his eyes roved over her, stopping on her mouth for a moment, something like temptation springing back up into his eyes before he overcame it and stepped towards the fallen. She opened her mouth to speak—should she ask about the kiss? She decided against it. If he wasn't going to speak of it right now, that was fine. They had enough to do. And she didn't want to be the one who made a deal out of it, even if there was little else she could think of at the moment. _Spike kissed me_ , was a mantra that kept popping up in her head with such regularity it was embarrassing, like she was a kid with a crush again. So she took to the task with ardor, spending her energy on that, rather than dwelling. That could wait until later.

Thankfully, they hadn't been too far from the boundary of the town—likely due to the Bounty Hunters wanting to drag the vampires out of Haven before killing them. They took them all, dead and dying and badly wounded, knocking out the ones that tried to resist.

Her shoulder complained against the strain, though it hurt less as the time went on, the cut being long but not deep, and her healing kicking in at an advanced rate. Spike had explained it to her after she had been gored by the branch. Vampire and Slayer healing was a bit different. Vampire's healing was slower, but more thorough, as there were no mortal wounds, anything that would a kill a vampire would do so quickly, so they would heal from anything, even a bullet to the skull or the removal of organs, though it would 'bloody well hurt for a long bloody time.' Slayer healing was quicker, more resilient, though they weren't quite as good against fatal wounds. A bullet to the heart, the lungs, anything that could kill a human could kill a Slayer too if it was devastating and quick enough. In Jade's case, she likely had the best of it, a quicker healing, and from wounds that would kill a human. However, he had told her—and she knew this first hand—that as quickly as she healed, that didn't mean the pain was any less impactful. Just usually a shorter span of it. So her shoulder was down to a dull throb, and cuts on her face were little more than paper-cuts by the time they had gotten the last demon out of Haven, though in the time it took them, the sky had lightened considerably.

Spike frowned at her across from the bodies, a flicker of worry across his face. "You should head back, Slayer." He told her. They had pulled the demons to an abandoned gas station, and though they were outside town limits, their house was on the other side of Haven, though even without a vehicle, she could make it back there easily. They both could, but she answered his frown with one of her own at his wording.

"What about you?" She ventured, trying not to sound too worried. He didn't like being patronized, or taken care of, though he certainly was used to the role of caretaker.

"I'll finish up here first. Make sure that these buggers know to piss off. Unless they want a second round." His eyes glinted with the challenge, then grew more serious at her obvious reluctance. "S'all right." He stepped around where they had grouped some of the demons together, to where she waited. He reached out with a hand, and though surprised, Jade forced herself not to move, still shocked by the feel of his cold skin on hers as he lightly thumbed her cheek, affectionately in a way that astounded her. "Go home, luv. I'll be there in a jiff."

Jade nodded, letting her reluctance wash away, even as she stifled the urge to lean into his hand, afraid he'd take it away. "I'll see you soon, then." She said, as casual as she could manage, and fled before the sun.


End file.
